


THE WAY: GN! Reader Edition

by InsaneMuse



Series: THE WAY: GN!Reader Insert [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bacta (Star Wars), Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Carbonite Freezing (Star Wars), Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin hates the cold, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Jedi Reader (Star Wars), Man Out of Time, Memory Loss, No use of y/n, POV Alternating, POV Din Djarin, POV Multiple, Points of View, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Protective Din Djarin, Reader-Insert, Shock, Single Parents, cold planet is cold, grogu in goggles, reader POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneMuse/pseuds/InsaneMuse
Summary: Din Djarin works alone, but when you are the sole caretaker of a 50 year old Force Sensitive Toddler...Sometimes you have to bend, before you break..
Relationships: Din Djarin/Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: THE WAY: GN!Reader Insert [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147904
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. THE PADAWAN

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place Between S.2 Chapter 13: The Jedi and Chapter 14: The Tragedy. The whole 1st half of this story takes place between those 2 episodes. I’m not 100% sure on the timing between episodes, but for the sake of this story we are going to imagine months have gone by between Cannon episodes. Some chapters will take place in between, and some will overlap.  
> Reader is Gender Neutral. (no y/n)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no neutral way around it. Despite best efforts at having no opinion on the matter at all Din Djarin absolutely…unequivocally….hated ice worlds.  
> He hated them with a passion unbridled.   
> Without fail, every single time he landed on one within the past year, something went wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place Between THE MANDALORIAN Season 2 Chapter 13: The Jedi & Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

There was no neutral way around it. Despite best efforts at having no opinion on the matter at all Din Djarin absolutely…unequivocally…. ** _hated_** _ice worlds._ _  
  
_ ** _He hated_** them with a passion unbridled.

Without fail, every single time he landed on one within the past year, something went wrong.

If it wasn’t a system failure on the Crest, it was a greater than usual problematic bounty.

If it wasn’t deadly Ice Spiders, it was the sheer unpleasant frigid temperatures that turned his beskar into a conduit for the biting chill that would seep into his under layers and make his limbs feel 10 times heavier.

Factor that in with the fact that his kid apparently couldn’t stay still today…

“Grogu…” his modulator crackled somewhat as he caught up, the difference of external and internal temperature made it work harder to pick up his voice.

The little one in question looked back at his Buir with ears perking upward, his dark wide eyes were currently hidden by a pair of retrofitted goggles. They were overly large but Din had managed to secure them after a bit of a fight. The Sun reflected blindingly off of the snow on this planet. Anyone unprepared would find themselves with possibly burnt retinas.

At 1st the kid didn’t leave them alone, but after a bit of a struggle Din took him outside. The glaring brightness stopped the little one from trying to pull them off again.

Despite the coverings Din could tell the look he was getting was an attempt to appear angelic.

He wasn’t fooled one bit.

“Don’t eat that” he warned, shaking a gloved finger. He hoped it held a tone of firmness, because even to his own ears it sounded as amused as he felt. To his credit Grogu’s hands lowered as if to actually drop it. Though Din’s head turned back towards where he was keeping watch, his eyes stayed on the child. Just as he suspected, Grogu slowly started to raise the object back towards his mouth. Din waited until right before he took a taste to point a finger back at Grogu uttering only a “No”.

This time the thing was dropped with a tiny begrudging huff. After a moment though something else caught the little one’s attention and Din felt ok to turn his attention back to his surroundings.

He huffed a frustrated sigh, again. If there was one thing he hated more than the cold and ice, it was unnecessary interruptions when he had a schedule.

It’d been a while since he had considered Grogu’s day to day needs as interruptions, and even longer since they had seemed unnecessary.

Long ago shifting from simply meeting the kid’s basic requirements, and slotting in things with more complexity into his docket as best as he could.

This still left a lot to be desired. Both because it drew out any Bounty he took or errand he had to run, but also because balancing everything meant that Din could not take all the time he wished to enrich the life of the child.

Part of that admittedly was less about available time in a week, and more about his sheer ineptitude in parenting.

He tried, _he did,_ but there was only so much he could do while maintaining a highly active Bounty Hunter lifestyle.

More than once Din found himself battling internally over the idea of hiring help.

On one hand, Grogu was **_his_** charge and the effort it would take simply to find someone trustworthy enough felt monumental to even just think out. But finding someone he could rely on to both handle Grogu ( _magic wizard Jedi powers and all),_ to keep up when needed and simultaneous stay out of the way.

The beings he trusted to watch Grogu for even very short amounts of time were counted on a single hand.

None of them could simply pick up and travel on a cramped ship bound for a life of galactic Jai-alai.

On another hand, Grogu was a handful even on his best days. Not only that, he was still so young, and deserved more than the bare minimum of care. He deserved enrichment and all the things Din believed were owed to a child. Even a _mischievous_ _Wizard-in-training Womp rat adopted by a Mandalorian for the foreseeable future._

Din sighed again. Patience long since lost as he looked at his chronometer.

  
This informant was late.

He hated late too. Loathed it.  
  
Late meant that he would have less time to actually hunt. Less time to hunt meant he had to take less time to prep, plan and to see to Grogu’s care.

But often was the way things went in this line of work. He would wait 10 minutes more.

A flash caught his eye for the 100th time. But just as before it was simply an effect of the light off of the snow. It had him on edge since he arrived on this Maker forsaken Ice-ball.

Ten minutes came and went and he stifled another sigh, his steps making a soft crunching sound beneath his heavy boots as he turned to put Grogu back in his sights.

A moment of panic caused his heart to skip a few beats. Where the child should be, there was an indentation only.

“Kid?” He said turning and freezing for a moment before his mind caught up with his view, how the Maker was he moving so fast and where was he going…

“Ehh?” Din tensed and then released a breath at the sound. Grogu now standing below him, reaching for his boot. He was on edge, and how quietly the little one could move got the better off him.

Hands on his hips he looked down at the bundle of brown and green.

“Alright Buddy, seems this contact is a bust” Din tilted his helmet down at the bug-eyed goggles looking back up to him. A huff that could be a laugh left his vocoder

“Lets go" he reached down to scoop Grogu up, allowing a blaster bolt to pass overhead him, missing by millimeters only.

His blaster was in his hand and aimed before his next breath.

“Kriff” Din muttered kneeling fully down to act as a shield to protect the child, and just as his knee hit the slushed snow several shots pinged off of his beskar causing him to grunt in pain.

Now he was _pissed_.

Aiming for **him** was one thing, but he had no doubt that the angle they were shooting was more than a coincidence. And speaking of coincidences, the puck in his pouch began to sound as the shots seemed to get closer.

_Maybe today wouldn’t be such a bust after all._

In one movement he scooped Grogu into his free arm, and rotated his upper body to face where he guessed some of the shots were coming from and calculated how many were shooting.

It was 3 or 4, and thankfully his aim was true when he heard the tell tale shout of someone in pain and then a muffled thud.

Alzoc III was mostly ice, but there were clusters of Fir trees. In a small clearing on a slope that was surrounded by some of these plants is where the Crest was parked. They weren’t a forest by any means, but it was enough that it made a quick count of possible attackers difficult. Being wise in experience means you know when to fight and when to run, and when you had your hands full of a curious 50 year old toddler, _you ran_.

Deciding to use the sparse foliage the same way his attackers were. He picked his way through the trees, shots ricocheting off of snow and bark as we went. Din’s strong legs ate up ground, even uphill as he made his way to the safety of his ship.

The top of the tree-line came quickly into view and he focused on that until the ground literally gave out beneath him.

The fall felt endless until it wasn’t. With a thud he hit the ground back 1st, but was luckily cushioned from the worst damage by a gathering of snow. 

The breath was momentarily knocked from him all the same, staring up into the opening of the sinkhole he’d fallen through. _Because his back didn’t give him enough problem._

“Birrrrr” Grogu vocalized after a moment, perched on Din’s chest, patting his cuirass affectionately with a chubby clawed hand. When he finally found he could inhale, he lifted his helmet and the child simultaneously with a grunt, holding him to better look at him.

“Did you just say…” the thought wasn’t finished as the shadow of someone above was the only warning to move he got before more shots rang out. Cradling Grogu in his arm again he rolled away from the circle of light and into the shadow, barely avoiding several blaster bolts hitting where he just was.

“Stay here kiddo” Din whispered as he careful placed Grogu behind what appeared to be a long outcropping of stone, it created enough cover to make him satisfied that the kid would be ok there.

Sliding to press his back against what seemed to be another, much taller slab of stone Din began to weight his choices. His mind was moving a mile a minute going through options, so much so, that he didn’t notice Grogu move from his hiding spot.

Din’s head swiveled around to take in his surroundings. Where he fell seemed to be the center of a circular cavern of ice. There were fallen logs and snow littered about from the size of a small table to the size of a door. Oblong in shape, but with dark stone peaking through several of them.

“ _Where the Kriff are we_ ”he mused, listening best he could above to try and listen to hear how many assailants he could expect.

Before he could really take a full look at the maybe-stone shapes littered about another sound caught his attention again, resonating like the creaking of ice over a pond. He adjusted his grip on his blaster, steading his breath and slowly inched out from behind his hiding spot. His helmet picking up more shuffling sounds above, and he could guess exactly what it was.

The split second the shadow of a figure appeared above him, he took the shot. His aim was true, and his instincts correct, the pained sound from his target stopped almost as quickly as it started. Then the whooshing sound of fabric through air was ended with the dull thud of a body hitting the ground.

He waited a bit longer to listen and heard no other sounds from above, only his shadow cast over the body as he shot it one more for good measure.

The initial hit though was right through the glass of one of his shades, and so it was probably literal overkill, but better safe than sorry.

Din wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed at his lack of surprise, or annoyed at how much sooner he should have predicted the outcome.

At his feet lay the lifeless body of a Kessurian male. Mottled red skin of its face framed by his montrals.

He could have guessed his alleged _informant_ was actually his bounty. He’d considered it off course, but it was best to take the bait either way.

And sure enough, his prediction of 3-4 shooters also turned out to be somewhat true. Kessurian’s had 4 arms. And in 3 of his arms were gripped 3 different types of blasters. The 4th arm likely held a blaster as well, knocked out when he was initially shot by Din. ( _The wound on his shoulder all but proved that_ ).

“Well Kid, looks like we are ahead of schedule now….” Din finally realized how quiet it still was when he finished removing the blasters from the dead Bounty.

“Kid?…Grogu?….” Din hurriedly strode to where he had placed the child.

To his chagrin where he should be, in the Childs place was the pair of discarded goggles.

_Dank Ferrick, not again._

“GROGU” Din’s voice echoed a bit in the chamber, but this time in response he got a familiar sound of some type of machinery.

It took his mind a second more to catch up, and when it did his hand moved before his body did. Swiping at one of the snow covered stone like formations.

Din took a step and it hit him all at once. Carbonite slabs, **_old ones._**

The one before came more into view as he wiped away at it with his gloved hands.   
  


Outdated by at least 15 years, and still filled with a frozen captive. Though the systems had failed ages ago.   
Seemed as if it was a type of cache. He moved to the next one and did the same. He realized that they were all just that. Carbonite slabs long forgotten.   
And that’s when the understanding of the sound he just heard hit him.

Deactivated Carb freeze.

“Ehhh!” Din visibly jumped when suddenly Grogu was back at his feet.

Adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the previous run and encounter.

“Damnit kid, you have to stop doing that” he scooped him up and quickly one handed, turning to where the footprints lead away.

Din looked down at his bundle of trouble, now pointing one puppy-fat finger in the direction he came and making a noise of contentment. He was looking up at him with a self satisfied tiny toothed smile.

“What did you do?”

This time Din refused to put Grogu down. He knew it was a risk, it always was to bring him. But as it often turned out to be, it was riskier to leave him to his own devices.

Blaster already trained ahead of him, he was taking no chances.

There was a small hollow further back where the sun didn’t reach. The temperature dropped quickly there, indicating it had been likely undisturbed for a long while.

Tracing Grogu’s footprints in the dark was easy with his helmet, leading him to what appeared to be another set of long abandoned Carbonite slabs. The remnants of tech surprised him. Nothing was left, everything but the casings and empty shelves and cabinets had been removed, but it was obvious something had been here that probably shouldn’t have been.

Slightly to his right one of the slabs sensors blinked. But it was quickly apparent that it was empty.

At 1st he wondered if Grogu had simply pressed a button on an already empty slab.

That didn’t feel right though. He **_heard_** the tell tale sounds of a slab being released from freeze…

Something flashed past him hitting the wall to his left. But senses still on edge he didn’t fall for it. Instead he swiveled to the right, blaster leading and took a shot.

He was aiming low on whatever it was and evidence by the muffled grunt and gasp he hit something.

Grogu made several distressed noises, squirming hard in Grogu’s arm.

“Sorry kid, sorry” he knew the blaster fire could be extra loud in a space that echoed. His helmet effectively muffled it, but sometimes he forgot how sensitive those big ears could be on the kid.

When Grogu didn’t calm down he looked down best he could to see why. Two small arms were reaching forward as if he was reaching for whatever Din just shot.

An animal perhaps?

Din took cautious steps forward, Grogu still squirming and making small huffing and wining noises.

“What is it Buddy?” Din asked confused until his sight screen adjusted from the Darkness of the cavern to the muted light of the bigger space.

Laying before him with a stain of red making a mark on the snowy ground was a humanoid figure. Robed in only an overlapping tunic and belt, loose style of pants and one shoe.

They rolled over, wincing and eyes tightly squeezed closed but hands raised palms up to show they had no weapon in them. Blood was beginning to seep through their tunic too and their breathing was labored.

“It…was just…just a snow ball…to distract you” they panted and winced again.

“…who are you” he asked, unsure still so his blaster remained trailed on them all the same.

“A Jedicicle….” And to his utter confusion they laughed. They’d made a joke, bleeding out on the frozen ground of what was apparently a Carbonite graveyard, and they were making jokes.

Tears were trickling out the corner of their still forcefully closed eyes, making Din realize that they might be suffering from Hibernation Sickness.

The fact that they were incredibly under dressed for the frigid environment couldn’t be helping.

Din finally lowered his blaster, quickly trying to decide what to do. He had to get Grogu out safely, get his bounty back to the ship and then there was…. _them_.

For a moment he actually contemplated if he should leave them.

Not his 1st choice, but by the angle of the light coming in through the opening in the shattered ceiling…he was starting to loose sunlight.

“ _I’mmm sor…ry_ ”

He almost missed it, their voice sounding small even through his sensitive microphone. The words were clipped, stuttering teeth beginning to clatter uncontrollably. **_Kriff._**

“Hey….” Hurriedly he kneeled by them with the intention of picking them up. If he didn’t get them to the Crest and under a blanket soon that would be it for them for sure. He reached out a gloved hand to pull back at the ruined fabric around their wound, and cursed again under his breath. He couldn’t be sure if it went through all the way, it could be why they were bleeding so much.

“Sor…sorry…need to to…take a nap forforror a bit…” they repeated, body shaking violently now, but a slight smile on their lips. Unsteadily their hands lowered to their bleeding side, one on top of the other, and their breathing began to slow.

When it seemed it stopped all together, Din felt an inexplicable sense of panic.

He’d seen death, he’d been the **_cause_** of other’s death.

He didn’t even know their name, but he’d killed them and it sat like a rock in his stomach.

Suddenly Grogu’s wines and wiggling stopped, and he let out a little huff and then went back to the small content little growling sounds he usually made. As if none of this had happened and it was just another boring day.

 ** _None of this made sense_**.

Din felt compelled to reach for their hand, to do…something.

But when his fingers touched against theirs, both hand fell away limply and he had to stare for a moment to process what he was seeing.

The singed hole through the tunic was there. The blood was still there, a stain marring the fabric. But the wound, the hole his blaster had made was gone.

His hand moved to the junction of their chin and neck, and he checked for a pulse. Harder to do with gloves, but there it was. His hand shifted to lay flat across their sternum instead, and the rising and falling of breathing was there too.

 ** _  
Just like the kid_** ….  
  


Though when Din held said womp-rat up the kid tilted his head and kicked his little legs contentedly under his robes. _So like the kid, but_ **_not_** _the kid._

He replaced Grogu’s goggles, then settled him on top of their prone form. Lifting both and securing them as tightly in his arms as he could, then he looked down at their blank face.

“Well Jedicicle…never a dull day”

And he activated his Jetpack to fly the 3 of you out of a literal hell hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alzoc III: Is a Cannon Ice planet in the Outer Rim Territories. The glare of the sun off the snow could become so blinding it could burn the retinas of unprotected eyes. Alzoc is home to Fir trees, Snow Slugs & the Sentient species the Talz.
> 
> Kessurian's: Sentient species native to Kessur. They have red-brown skin tones and montrals that help with spacial awareness. They are known to be adventurous and to have a wanderlust.


	2. THE HEALER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Turns out that maneuvering a jetpack with an unconscious body and a perpetually inquisitive toddler was a hasty life choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place directly after Chapter 1.  
> Swaps of POV are separated by Dividers.  
> Also Din not assuming someone’s pronoun’s because he’s cool like that.

Turns out that maneuvering a jetpack with an unconscious body and a perpetually inquisitive toddler was a hasty life choice. By the time Din landed in front of the Crest he silently swore to never do that shit again if he didn’t absolutely need to.

You didn’t weigh much, and Grogu weighed almost nothing…but that wasn’t helpful when apparently Grogu thought it was a good idea to test Din’s hand eye coordination by tipping forward while trying to see below.

Of course Din caught him, but that didn’t stop his hands from shaking all the way until his boots touched down on the snow covered ground.

“Do me a favor kid, and don’t ever do that again”“…Ehh?” Din was about 99.9% sure his _Ad_ ’ understood him, at least thats what he chose to think to sooth his nerves. His arms and back were aching by the time the ramp fully extended, and the chill of it was starting to set in through his layers.

If _he_ was cold that meant Grogu was too, increasing the risk of catching a chill. The kid was resilient to every environment Din had ever exposed him to, but he felt this was pushing his luck.

Now came the real conundrum.

Din didn’t want to leave the Kid alone with _you_ , or leave you alone on the Crest _at all_ for that matter. But he had to choose one, so he strode up the ramp and carefully placed you down on the floor of the ships hull.

None of this was exactly ideal, but it was necessary.

That left him free to better think. The angles of his hands propped above his hips for a second before he formulated the quickest temporary solution. With a firm tug on his cape, it was freed it with minimal effort. It would remove a layer of cold protection for himself, but was a sacrifice he was willing to make. That he laid over you quickly. With a single shoulder shrug of resignation, Din needed to move on as he was loosing the daylight.

Honestly there were other things he had to worry about more, like the the Ship being eaten by a cavernous Snow Slug or confrontations with other Bounty Hunters. But finds himself observing you under the artificial light of the Crest for longer than he should. Forcing himself to remember there were bigger issues at hand he turned back to re-open the ramp. Swiveling around to face the both of you again as it lowered, thinking to take the child with him after all. _Well… **shit**_ …Grogu was already shuffled up under his cloak, with _you_. His little hands were patting on your chest and making noises that sounded like an attempt at being comforting.

Din let out a bemused huff of air, a sound sandwiched between amusement and uncertainty.

“Grogu…” he called, and the little one’s ears perked up attentively at his _Buir_.

Amusement bubbled further up under the lingering adrenaline. No matter how in the Zone Din was, the kid’s response to being called by name never got old.

“Stay…. **seriously** ” he said as firmly as he dared.

Time to get the bounty, and to get off this cursed icy hell hole.

Thankfully the remainder of his tasks were completed with no further extended interruptions and in record time.Admittedly the fact that he’d left Grogu with a stranger ( _albeit an unconscious one_ ) helped to spur him to hurry.

Despite the need to get a move on, there was an abrupt but forceful compulsion to do a quick sweep of the cavern. Swiping at a few of the structures he realized they were mostly haphazardly covered empty and expired carbonite plaques. On closer surveying he noticed trashed wires and other debris. A chill not related to the frigid weather crawled up his spine. None of this should be here, it reeked of Empire but he wasn’t sure what to do with this information as it was obviously long abandoned.

Din hurried over to the space in the very back, finding the space unchanged. Satisfied and turning to leave, his boot kicked something propped in the corner which turned out to be a box he hadn’t noticed. Tipping it over caused something to fall out. It made a solid thunk and then a grinding sound as it rolled away. He kneeled down next to it, hand hovering just above hesitantly. The arrows on the top of his gloves seemed to point towards it, finally curiosity won over. What he’d retrieved was a forearm length cylinder with swirled lines sprouting along the length of it. Clearly it was made mostly of metal, but also what appeared to be either bone or wood inlayed around the top and bottom sections. There was a single sliding switch on one side and a D-ring on the one end.

As he stood Din looked directly down into the opening, his thumb placed over the switch. Suddenly thinking better of it, instead he tilted the opening away from his helmet before toggling the switch. He was rewarded only with a distinctly electrical sputtering sound.

Din didn’t know why, but it felt significant and whatever compelled him to look around in the first place swayed him to take it with him. Hooking the thing onto his belt by the D-ring as he hurried out.

Back in the main area Din kneeled again, and with a grunt hefted the body under one arm, activating his jetpack the moment he felt secure. Only a few more minutes passed between takeoff and reaching the ramp. The light was almost gone now, the temperature dipping with a quickness that spurred him to hasten his steps inside so he could place the Bounty in Carb freeze and secure the ship. He did so with practiced ease, causing several small motions to flow one into the other. He’s spared a look your way on arrival, finding ( _to his relief_ ) you were both exactly where he’d placed you.

After securing the Bounty he checked on you both on his way to the cockpit but froze at the sight of Grogu sleeping under his cloak…because it was _**only**_ Grogu.

Din’s hackles shot up faster than a spooked Fathier, nearly as quick was the drawing of his blaster, but before he could even register the sensation of someone behind him the feeling of numbness drained through from his shoulder and spread to his limbs.

The blaster unceremoniously clattered to the floor 2 seconds before he knocked to his knees. Din’s body felt anesthetized and useless, reminding him of the last craptastic run-in he had with Jawas. His legs were leaden and he wasn’t quite sure what was actually holding him upright.

His breath was loud in his ears under the strain of his strange situation, but he registered another’s breathing just behind him.

“I’m sorry…I won’t keep you immobilized for long, I promise” your voice wasn’t as fraught as when he’d shot you earlier, though was still strained, your words bordering on slurred.

“What…did you…do to me” he gritted out behind clenched teeth, feeling both like he was frozen and that he was about to teeter forward at any second, giving him an overwhelming sense of vertigo.

Something warm slithered from his right nostril and he felt it trail thickly down along the outer ridge of his philtrum, tickling his sparse mustache. By the time it came to a stop on the ridge of his upper lip he could smell the distinct metallic tang of blood. He swallowed reflexively and could taste it on the back of his throat.

“You don’t have a lot of time” you breathed, “if I keep you like this too long you’ll pass out or worse…please…just listen” there was a pleading quality to your breathless request that he’d heard a million times from Bounties, but it confused him. Whatever you’d done to him gave you control of the situation, why were you still trying to negotiate?

“I’m going to release you…if you promise…to **not** freeze me again. Can, can you promise?” you were beginning to sound as tired as he now was feeling. Din didn’t seem to have a lot of time to weigh his options, so instead he figured agreeing was the smartest route for now.

“Ok…”

“Swear it” your desperation was palpable now, and Maker help him, he was _intrigued_.

Spots were starting to dance in front of his eyes and he felt like he might pass out in a second, another warm roll of blood added to the trail now hitting his lips, he licked at it instinctually while his mind went to Grogu. The idea of himself unconscious and you alone with his foundling forced a choice on him.

“You..Have…my **word** …” he grit out and almost instantly there was a pressure on his shoulder and with a rush of heat, sensation started to flood back. It was like when a limb wakes up after too little circulation. A sharp pins and needles and a buzzing sensation, but all over.

Din fell forward but with a grunt of exertion, his breath fast as if he’d run a mile. Took him another second to realize he’d slowed thanks to your shaking hands on both of his shoulders lowering him fully to the ground, the realization that you’d been holding him upright while simultaneously paralyzing him hit Din at the same time his helmet touched the ground.

Feeling was swiftly returning to his limbs, and he got his hands under him in a low push up position as you let go. He heard you move away from him. Honestly he assumed you would run for it, but instead you went the other direction & your movements stopped a few feet away.

As soon as he was able Din lifted his head to look where you’d relocated, making sure you were away from Grogu.

He found you sliding down against the adjacent wall of the hull, bottom hitting the metal floor with a pained grunt as if you couldn’t completely control your descent.

Both of your breaths were labored and that became a chorus to the silence for another minute.

“Thank…thank you”

he would have thought he’d imagined the words if he wasn’t eyeing you again and saw your lips forming them. Your head then hit the wall to your back, eyes closed.

Another minute or so and Din was able to pull himself to his feet and retrieve the dropped blaster. You could have taken it, it was right near you, but you didn’t. Again an annoying spark of curiosity wrested him.

A soft coo alerted Din to Grogu now being awake, sitting up with Din’s cape in his little lap like a blanket. He gazed up at Din with those big dark eyes before turning to look at you now slumped across from him.

“That was…weird” so maybe Din Djarin wasn’t going to win any awards for eloquence, but he was going to make sure that you were never able to catch him off guard again.

* * *

Initially when consciousness started its return to you, it was your hearing you became aware of first. The ambient sounds from a ship in flight tapped softly against your awareness and became slightly louder as you began to grasp for tendrils of control over yourself.

There were the typical little whirrs & low tonal beeps of a craft’s systems going through its paces. Below all that was the breathing of yourself and 2 others.Little sniffling & huffs and other sounds you registered as coming from the youngling who was cuddling up to you when you’d woke earlier.

He was nearby, though it was hard to tell exactly where. Next you pinpointed the nearly inaudible modulated breathing sounds somewhere nearer to you. _The Mandalorian_.

All at once you realized a few things. Firstly you were still sitting up, probably where you’d passed out. You knew this due to the floor beneath you being warm. Metal was especially cold in space by default, so you must have been sitting here for a while.

Secondly your arms were raised above your head and something was holding them together and restraining them in place. You ever so slightly tested your fingers and hands, finding them radiating with numbness and poor blood flow. _So, Binders…That’s fair._

Attempting to open your eyes was a whole other issue. The lingering hibernation sickness made them extremely sensitive.

You did eventually manage to painfully peel one lid open only to be greeted by a blurry mass before you, which solidified into a slightly less blurry Mandalorian with a blaster pointed at you.

_Admittedly, also fair._

“I know you're awake” he began flatly.

You responded with a raspy grunt of agreement. “Who are you, and how did you…”

“I’m sorry…” you interrupted, voice creaky and throat dry. “but…Can you turn the lights down”

The Mandalorian regarded you silently for a while, and you wondered if he would just shoot you, or if he might actually be considering your request.

“…please, my eyes…hurt” you admitted, hoping he would understand you weren’t trying anything on him.

After another splayed out moment of avoirdupois silence, he audibly sighs and the sound of a button being pressed proceeded the lights dimming to ambient levels.

“Thank you, it’s just-“

“Who are you” the request was a bit more forceful this time, and you supposed you owed him that much.

“I’m…” and just like that you felt a bubble of panic rise in your chest. It was like when you went to retrieve something precious, only to find it missing. Well that was inconvenient.

 _ **Frickfrickfrick**_ …

The panic began to increase like water being brought up to a simmer.

You could hear your breathing pick up speed, and you knew it wasn’t good, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The more you tried to reach for that one bit of information the harder it seemed to be to recall.

The panic must have been evident on your face because he actually lowered his blaster, his other hand gesturing towards you. “Hey, calm down…breathe slowly” said the Mandalorian while sitting up from the crate he’d occupied.

“In and out, slower” he encouraged, and you knew he was right. Over-breathing could dangerously lower the carbon dioxide in your blood…now how you knew **that** but not your _own_ _name_ was another thought screaming its way through your mind.

Despite the battling inner voice, you forced yourself to begin regulating your breathing in a way that felt familiar, like something you’d been taught before. The revelation that you actually **had** been taught exactly that was something solid to grasp on to. Where you learned it lept into the forefront of your thoughts willingly, you felt a bubble of excitement at that. _Ok, that’s a good sign_.

“I’m…a Jedi..or I was, I…” You answered in between slowing breaths.

He regarded you quietly until you were both drawn by the sounds of the youngling making his little sounds. He toddled up to his Mandalorian, placing one hand on his shin and then looked up at him holding something in his little chubby fingers.

“Hey, what did I say…” the tone shift in the Mandalorian was surprising. He’d begun stern and icy when initially speaking to you, his interrogation voice you presumed. Then he shifted to softer and encouraging, and now he’d seemed to flip right into what you would call a _Parental Unit_ voice. Despite yourself, your uncomfortable position, and lingering anxiety you smiled.

“Eh?” The little one spoke and held up the object in his hand in your direction, you felt very clear waves of something intensely familiar coming from him. The power of it was strong for one so little, you found yourself opening your mind to it in a way that felt practiced and familiar.

“patu?” he vocalized while offering up a silver round ball in his hand like it was his most prized possession, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charming little fellow.

“Very nice…” you encouraged smiling directly at him now. He made a series of conversational babbling sounds, but all the while you were getting various impressions of words and almost images.

“Oh I see” you responded as if having a mutual conversation.

The Mandalorian stood watch, shoulders softened after a few “words” were exchanged. You were aware of his unwavering observance over the two of you, but it seemed his guard was relaxing.

Your heart clenched with an emotion you couldn’t name when suddenly this little one, who you’d just met, toddled to you and crawled right into your lap like he’d done so with regularity. A series of impressions flashed in your mind and took your breath away with the realization that you recognized some of the places and things he was sharing with you. The Jedi temple on Coruscant, the sensation of meditation practice and the calmness of the Force that blanketed your old home. The bubbling of fountains, smells of incense and ozone and warm conversations and laughter and so many things that’d wallowed alone in your memories for so long.

Without hesitation you were actively sharing in return, the same impressions and familiarity ebbing and flowing between you. He smiled sweetly up at you knowingly and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes for a different reason.

Delight tugged your cheeks into a full smile, and you squinted up at the Beskar encased warrior in wonder.

“I think we’ve met before…haven’t we, Grogu?” you supplied once you found your voice.

“Were you…his…Master?”

At that a few things slammed back to the forefront of your mind, memories solidifying more easily with the Force connection combined with you not trying to wrench them free.

But the weight of them wasn’t light and airy like the beloved ones you’d just shared. You shut yourself off from the child suddenly as a flash of painful recollections slammed into you one after another.

They hurt as if they were hitting you physically and you had to close your eyes to try and keep yourself from shattering under the assault.

The child made worried sounds up at you, and the loss of the pressure on your wrists snapped you back to reality.

The Mandalorian was kneeling in front of you now, releasing you from the binders. His helmet tilted at you.

You sighed in relief, rubbing your wrists for a bit longer than needed to try and give yourself time to calm down.

To his credit, he waited patiently and let you. His presence serving to ground you.

“No…I wasn’t a Master at all. Just a Padawan, ummm…that’s a Jedi’s apprentice…That was before Order…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, it was so fresh and painful still after the last few years.

“Sorry” you apologized finally, looking at him momentarily, but dropping your gaze again.

“Even after 2 years, it still feels…fresh”

His body language changed quickly and you thought you heard him curse under his breath, the modulator not picking it up but perhaps it slipped out from under his helmet.

“How long did you say?” He reached for the top of your hand, and turned it over examining the marks left by the binders.

His gentleness in touch and tone of the question threw you off, but still you didn’t really want to think about it. Although…he deserved answers, he’d been surprisingly patient with you thus far.

“I managed to stay hidden for 2 years before a Bounty hunter got me. They were searching for Jedi who’d survived, and I became…separated from the Knight I’d been traveling with and…huh…” You huffed annoyed. “Of course that I remember, but not my own name” you groaned and cleared your throat again, mouth painfully dry.

“I’ll be right back” the Mandalorian said while standing and walking away swiftly somewhere you couldn’t see. There were muffled sounds and then he was back with a canteen in his gloved hand. “Thank you” you took it gladly, the weight of it comforting and the water might as well have been wine, it was the best drink you’d ever had. You swallowed your fill, trying not to drink too quickly. Even though you were still thirsty, you were no longer parched. He removed the canteen from your hands and set it down next to you. Once again you were thrown off at him lowering himself to sit in front of you, crossed legs mirroring your own.

You couldn’t see his eyes hiding behind the Beskar and Glass, but you got the feeling that he was staring directly at you. A long moment passed were your curiosity suddenly merged into anxiety, but you didn’t know why.

“…what?” And maybe you didn’t want to know, but damn if you didn’t need to.

“Don’t be afraid” he began, and you thought that was a strange thing to say. It didn’t comfort you at all, he needed to work on his bedside manner you mused halfway between amusement and annoyance.

“ What…seriously” ok you were worried now. His posture was tense again. You didn’t know how long you’d been in Carb freeze, and now you were wondering what you’d missed that he wasn’t telling you.

“It hasn’t been 2 years since…since the purge.” One of his gloved hands open and closed sporadically catching your attention. A nervous tick off his perhaps. Somehow imagining an obviously seasoned and highly equipped Mandalorian being nervous made things worse.

“…ok…how long was I in there for then?” The idea of a whole year or more passing made your mouth feel dry again.

“It’s uh…” his helmet tilted down and then back up to you. “It’s been almost 30 years”

A small amused huff escapes you, one cheek pulling your mouth into a half grin and you weren’t sure why but you wanted to laugh. “A Jedi walks into a Bar and orders the Carbonite special….That’s a terrible joke” you proffered suddenly feeling a distinct sense of being only partially attached to your body.

“…not joking…” he supplies and you actually do laugh then, a tear escaping your eye as you blinked. Your hand moved of its own accord to touch your face, fingertips coming away wet.

“I know” the words are faint even in your own ears. You don’t feel angry, you don’t feel sad…you don’t feel much of anything. It’s a bit like you're floating above it all and nothing was solid. You are vaguely aware of an uncomfortable tightening in your chest, and that your arms felt cold. A distant internal voice was shouting a warning to you, but even that felt far away.

“Hey, look at me” when you don’t reply gloved fingers grip your chin and tilt your face up slightly. He was examining you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight it.

“I think I’m going into shock…” you offer tonelessly.

“Yeah” he agrees and he’s up and out of sight again. You know the youngling is still there and you can hear him wining and feel him tugging on your tunic, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Instead you lay your head back against wall, thinking if you don’t you might fall over. “I’m ok Grogu” you lie, worried you are upsetting him but increasingly unable to do much about it.

When the Mandalorian returns he has a hypo in his hand, a shot of Bacta you guessed. Any other time you would fight him on it, you were a healer after all.

 _Oh hey_ , You remembered something, you thought detachedly.“I’m just going to..” He held up the hypo and you nod best you can. The hiss of it being administered wasn’t a comfort, usually you prefer to heal yourself.

“I’m a healer” you added, words slurring as you started to feel the effects already. He nods in acknowledgment and watches you as if unsure what to say to that. “How funny I need a Mando…to…to heal me” you were struggling to stay awake now.

A few tears leaked again from your eyes, and you couldn’t even bother to wipe them away or be ashamed or embarrassed. Sleep was pulling you down so strongly you felt like you would physically be dragged into it.

“…What now?” was the last thing you asked him before the darkness finally caught up to you.

* * *

By the time you’d fallen to unconsciousness again, Din was feeling the exhaustion truly settle through him. He wanted nothing more than to grab Grogu and get some real sleep. There were a few things he needed to do first though.

Foremost being he had to decide where to put you. Though still true he didn’t even know your name, it was easier to let that go considering it seemed you didn’t remember it yourself. Chalk it up to a literal lifetime in carbonite, your vicarial reaction screamed authentic. Pair that with Grogu’s behavior around you and Din was inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

Carb freeze was out of the question. Not least of all because he couldn’t be sure you would _survive_ it. The memory of your terrified plea to not put you in also sat heavily in his chest.

 _ **Dank farrik**_ …he did not need this right now.

Dragging you up to the cockpit sounded exhausting, but leaving you on the cold ground wasn’t appealing either. After a few moments of uneasily shifting weight from one leg to the other, he chose.

There was a cot built in to the hull of one corner of his ship intended for triage purposes. He rarely needed it in all these years, so it was nearly forgotten. Not the most comfortable but it would have to do for now. With an audible huff and a twinge of his back he lifted you carefully and carrying you over to it, used the front of his boot to maneuver the lever that released the cot. It popped open with a louder than anticipated clang, but you your blank expressions never changed indicating you were deep under the sway of the Bacta and probably would be for a while.

Din made a mental note to replace the hypo he’d used next time he was Planet side somewhere with a decent market.

Digging around through supplies that had been untouched for who knew how long, finally finding a smallish square package encased package that he tore into to reveal a standard issue blanket. Probably part of first aid supplies he’d acquired over the years. He draped the thin sheet over you and regarded your still figure before him. After another sigh he retrieved his cape and added it over top of the blanket.

It would have to do.

Din scooped Grogu back up as he made his way to the cockpit. “Sleep time kiddo”. Though he would much prefer to slide into his “bed”, he would be too on edge to get any real sleep in there anyway.

Instead Din sat Grogu in his Floating Pod, making sure he was comfortable and settled. The little one shuffled around a bit and plopped back with a little huff, making tired noises to himself. Din half smiled at him, affectionately rubbing the top of one large soft ear until little snorts became soft snores. When he was sure Grogu as fully asleep he pressed the button on the front of the pod to close it.

Inspecting the readings on the display, when he was content with what he saw there he crossed his arms across his broad chest sitting back with a groan.

He’d regret finding his rest here in his Pilots chair, but such was the life he led.

You had to take whatever rest you could get, wherever you could get it. He just hoped he didn’t end up regretting a few other choices he’d made as of late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CARBONITE SICKNESS:  
> also known as hybernation sickness, was a medical condition that could occur when a person was brought out of suspended animation in carbonite. It was characterized by exhaustion, weakness, dehydration, dizziness, memory loss, and temporary blindness.


	3. TERMS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had to get to his ship.   
> Had to get to the Jedi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Timeline is going to get a bit Wibbly-Wobbly from here on out. Din last visits Nevarro before the events of “THE JEDI” & we don’t see him go back before the finale, but in my story I have him managing to go back at least once. Since THE WAY begins past the halfway point of Season 2, I will have a different take on how much time has passed. Time jumps will be well indicated.

More than 30 hours pass by the time the Razor Crest reaches the orbit of Nevarro, and yet they still sleep.   
Honestly he didn’t have a durasteel expectation of how long to actually expect his new passenger to remain under the lull of the Bacta, but this still felt worryingly long. 

Every time he checked there was an expectation of the worst, but there they remained breathing softly in their slumber. 

Grogu tried several time to climb into the cot too, and Din found it both amusing and annoying. 

The first time it happened a few hours after he’d placed the _Jetii_ in the cot.   
Din dozed for about an hour and a half before he realized that Grogu was missing. A mild sense of panic heeled his pulse quicker until rushing out of the Cockpit he gazed down below. There was the bundle of brown and green perched on the Jedi’s chest.

He slid down the ladder swiftly and plucked Grogu up to eye level.  
  
“No _Ad’ika_ , they need rest” he muttered placing Grogu in the crook of his elbow as he always did while shifting his gaze down to them and seeing they were still sleeping deeply, he headed back to the Cockpit. 

Thrice more Din caught Grogu attempting to escape. 

The second time Din caught him, literally in mid air, as the child was escaping his pod.   
  
The Mandalorian’s senses were on high alert after that, thwarting him again and again in various stages of breaking loose of his Fathers vigilance. 

After a handful of hours more of wakefulness, it seemed that Grogu had enough and sleep would _finally_ take him.   
The final time Din was distracted by a repair he was focusing on. One minute he was welding a panel shut and the next his adorable little troublemaker managed to waddle away.

The Mandalorian didn’t need to think a second more about where he would find him, and his intuition served true.   
His adopted son sat perched on the sleeping Jedi’s chest facing them. As Din quietly approached he realized that Grogu seemed to be having a one sided baby-speak conversation _at_ them.   
His little head tilted side to side, large ears twitching as he uttered a combination of chirps, growls and hums.   
It was painfully cute, and Din was happy to suffer another minute to take it in.   
  
He almost didn’t notice but when it registered it gave him pause.   
Though seemingly utterly asleep, the Jedi was muttering something indecipherable in what appeared to be a response to Grogu’s own pseudo-talking.  
Din took a few tentative steps forward before finally being noticed by his _ad’ika,_ big pink and green ears dipping and little forehead wrinkling with a guilty look.

“Ok buddy, let’s let them sleep” Din sighed as he plucked the little one up into his arms but waited another second to peer down at them. They didn’t mutter anything else, only the twitching of eyes beneath close eyelids evidence that they were dreaming.   
  
Near 3 days later and Din’s only discovery were more questions.  
Deciding it would just have to remain something to worry on another time, he reached down to pull the blanket and cape up to their chin.

Din had an appointment to make.  
He just hoped they would be alright in the meantime. 

* * *

It doesn’t take Din long to reach his destination.   
The back alleyways of Nevarro were still intimately familiar to him.   
It had been his home for quite some time and there was a sense adjacent to nostalgia that settled between his ribs as he made his way like a silent silver shadow. 

Lifting up the tattered makeshift screen, the Hunter slid sideways behind it and down the well recognized stairway that lead to what used to be home base of his Covert.   
  
“There you are” Greef welcomed him in his amiable manner. Without prompting he relieved Din of Grogu while cooing and carrying on much to the child’s delight. 

It wasn’t lost on Din how Greef had gone from someone he only trusted to provide regular work, to someone he trusted even with Grogu. Greef had transformed into what Din could picture a grandfather to his son would be, or at the very least a highly _indulgent_ Uncle. 

Din still wasn’t the main progenitor of the majority of the conversation, Karga happily taking the lead in that. Pucks were exchanged for credits, and casual updates swapped.   
All the while the Mandalorian’s thoughts began to shift from Greef’s report to the thought of his _Alor_ and the rest of his Covert. He found himself wrapped up in the idea that once thing’s settled he would actively seek out his people again. So caught up for a second was his attention that he almost didn’t hear what Greef said.

“Wait, what?” Din asked a bit more sharply than he intended, once again his full attention on the Magistrate.   
  
“The Slabs, I already sent for them.” He said before giving his attention back to Grogu.

_Dank Farrik,_ he cursed internally. So hung up between parlaying with Greef and his own memories he neglected to remember the one thing that further complicated what would otherwise be an appreciated gesture on Greef’s part.This return to Nevarro so soon after their last had been pulled off only with Greef’s help and discretion. A different landing sight, more isolated than the other. All in an attempt to stay under the literal radar. But he forgot one very critical change to the plan. 

“I uh, forgot something important…Can you?” he points at Grogu before promptly not waiting for the other man to answer. 

_He had to get to his ship.  
Had to get to the Jedi. _

* * *

When you finally wake it isn’t the steady background sounds that bring you back to consciousness, but the absence of them.   
Not the sudden shift of gravity or dropping out of the engines roar. Just the abrupt realization of its absence. For all you could tell it might have been _hours_ before you’d become conscious of it.   
  
The wild racing of your heart actually serves to to be grounding while you lay and simply listen. Finally you feel confident enough to carefully crack open your eyes, adjusting to the dim ambient lighting quickly. 

The remembrance of how you got there was murky. Rising to the surface of your consciousness like viscous globs moving through even thicker tar.   
You could recall the waking in the freezing cave, the being shot by the Mandalorian and healing yourself.   
_Ah right, the Mandalorian._

There it was, he brought you here onto his ship. The rest broke free in succession: incapacitating him, Grogu, and then…

You couldn’t remember much after he’d revealed exactly how much time was passed since your capture.   
It was very much a blur after that. Three times was a bit much to fall unconscious in a single day, even for a Force sensitive Healer.

After taking full stock of yourself and realizing you actually felt physically quite good, you sit up. This made sense, Bacta would have taken care of what you were not able to in your previous state.   
But being in the dim hull of a ship did nothing to indicate how much time had passed since _then_.   
Your heart rate ticks up a bit, and you made a mental note to try and get something that told time on your person sooner than later.   
  
There you sit in silence for a while longer. Realizing there was a blanket laid over you.  
 _No wait…two_. One was quite worn for wear, a dark grey thing that was tattered, full of holes but surprisingly soft. It looked familiar but from where you couldn’t fantom. 

Reaching out through the Force you realized you are actually alone on the ship itself. How long that had been for was another mystery, but it made sense that The Mandalorian would have to land somewhere at some point.   
Right now there were more pressing matters to attend.   
Like finding the fresher, nearly 30 years in carbonite wasn’t kind on the bladder. 

The floor was sharp in its chill, but nowhere near as frigid as while in space. The fact that you were barefoot was another revelation.   
Luckily the fresher was easily and quickly found, and even luckier was that it was a model that was familiar.   
What _was_ unfortunate was the state of it. It wasn’t filthy in any sense, it just wasn’t exactly _sanitary_. Luckily you’d seen worse, thus wasn’t that surprised.   
With that taken care of and freshly washed hands you find yourself wondering what to do until The Mandalorian returned.   
  
You could leave if you needed to, but that didn’t feel right. Where would you rightfully go in a pair of patient’s scrubs and no shoes? Especially when not knowing what planet you were on.   
It was definitely inhabited, the signatures of living beings strong on the end of your senses, but beyond that you had no other clues. 

Your stomach growled and clenched painfully like a suggestion.   
Actually you couldn’t recall the last time you’d eaten food. At this point it was probably on the front end of 30 years ago.   
Just as you were contemplating poking around until you found either a chiller, a kitchen or rations the loud grinding sound of the ship’s ramp being opened startles you to attention. 

A gush of air alerts you back to your pathetic state of dress, the best quick option that you think of is to grab a hold of the top ( _and most tattered_ ) of the blankets and wrap that around your shoulders like a makeshift cloak. 

When reaching out again it was clear by what you sensed that whoever was walking up was not the Mandalorian or Grogu.   
  
You are met with a pair of uniformed ground crew who stop when they catch sight of you and startled, stare back. Three sets of very different eyes watching each other.   
Distantly you realize you must have been a _sight_.   
  
More than a few seconds pass over your ocular standoff before the 2 workers exchanged glances before turning back to you.   
  
It hits you that it was unlikely The Mandalorian would leave the ship unattended by accident. That meant these 2 were here with _permission_.   
But it also strikes you that they were surprised by your presence, which meant The Mandalorian never _told_ them.  
  
 _So either The Mandalorian forgot, or…_  
The idea they might be here for _you_ sets your pulse racing.   
One of the beings opens its mouth to speak but before they could the sound of quickly approaching footsteps caused all 3 of you to swivel toward it.  
  
Just like that the Mandalorian arrives, breath elevated slightly indicating they ran.   
After another momentary visual standoff where the 2 workers openly gaped at The Mandalorian, they finally seem to come to their senses.

“…Sorry” you realized belatedly that The Hunter was actually speaking to _you_ , helmet tilted in your direction.   
“You were uhh…asleep and…”   
You swear you can hear them clear their throat, but you aren’t sure.   
  
“Uhh were just going to...” the taller of the 2 ground crew says pointing to a section near you.   
When The Mandalorian nodded once in their direction they carried on with the task with a practiced ease.   
An awkward minute tripped past before you realize what they were here for.

_The Carbonite slabs.  
_  
Watching in silence as they began the process of offloading the slabs, you now register they were probably The Hunter’s bounties.   
This made sense why he hadn’t been present when you awoke, life continued even with derailments ( _such as finding a frozen Jedi in an underground ice cave)_.

By the time the second slab was being floated out of the ship you find you have to turn away, pulling the makeshift blanket tighter around you as a shiver rolled up your spine.   
The sight of living creatures frozen in time suspended in solid carbonite presses at something inside that’s overwhelmingly unpleasant.   
  
Aside from the worker’s breathing, footsteps and the din of them working the mechanized jacks that floated the slabs away, it was quiet.   
Then there was silence inside the ship again, and you risk a look back to the ramp. 

To your surprised the Mandalorian remains standing there, helmet turned to the opening before swiveling back at you.   
  
This time you are sure you hear a sigh as they regard you.  
  
“How do you feel?” That was not what you expect honestly, though not sure why.   
The Mandalorian had been nothing but kind to you, _aside from the initial shooting and all_.   
  
“Good, thank you” and as if to call you out as a liar, your stomach loudly growled again for attention.   
How easily you could just imagine raised eyebrows when that helmet once again cants to the side.   
_Awkward._ You think while smiling apologetically.   
“Guess it’s been literal ages since I’ve eaten”   
They nod their helmet as if in agreement and tipped it towards the ship’s opening in what you figure was an invitation to follow while they started down the ramp. 

“Umm, Mando….I mean, excuse me Mandalorian” they stop halfway down and looked back, the sense of surprise you assume is probably directed at the fact you weren’t following.

“Wha…” they begin and you lift the tattered blanket to reveal bare feet. 

“…Oh, right…Um. Wait here?” Figuring either they were going to procure shoes or bring you something back, though they don’t make it far.

“This little one missed you” came a jovial baritone as an older dark skinned humanoid approached with Grogu cradled in arm.   
  
The youngling cooed when he saw the both of you and you couldn’t help but smile at him.   
  
“Well well well Mando who do we have here?” The Person who was donned in magistrate’s fibulae had their attention on you now.   
Grogu giggled and blubbered happily as if in response and a few images arrived to you.   
  
It’s a visual of yourself asleep on the cot and you realize it was a memory of Grogu clambering up onto the cot and proceeding to try and wake you. Then he was scooped up by The Mandalorian who appeared put out that Grogu was bothering you.   
You could nearly taste the little ones emotions about it all like notes of flavor in a soup. Contentedness at being with you, then annoyance and disappointment about being caught. 

It takes you another moment to register the snippets of words coming alongside the other sensations.   
One word in particular stood out because it hits like electricity, because you **_knew_** it. 

You utter the word out loud but mostly to yourself at first, the Mandalorian must still have heard it because their gaze shifts quickly to you. 

You repeat your _name_ more clearly in a proper greeting to this new stranger, the word tripping easily off your tongue.   
Grogu coos in response, his precious little head canting to the left while a big smile of acknowledgment spread on his tiny mouth.   
The more you roll the name around in your mind, the more it fit snugly into place like a missing puzzle piece.   
Shaking your head as if agreeing to an unanswered question, you offered this new person a smile of your own.   
  
“Well be still an old man’s heart. Welcome, it is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m Greef Karga the Magistrate of this lovely little outpost of Nevarro. Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine.” He preened approaching you, and soon had retrieved your hand and tilts his head down almost as if to kiss it.   
He doesn’t but the cheeky grin he gives instead elicits your smile to widen at him, his jovial at ease nature was a tad endearing.   
  
There was another sigh from next to you emanating from the _Mando_ who now had their hands on their hips but you could sense amusement slipping off them so you weren’t concerned.

Grogu actually reaches for you then and without a thought you take him, because that’s what one did when a child asked to be held. Especially one as adorable as him. 

“Well would you look at that” Greef chuckled and turned his smile to the Mandalorian.   
“You’ve been holding out on me Mando” he teased and once again the Hunter sighed, which caused Grogu to giggle. 

It was all quite humorous, but your stomach decides once again to be a joy kill and rumble for attention. 

“Now I get the feeling that some Dinner is in order” Greef fake whispers at you in his cheery way.  
  
“And shoes” you joke feeling a bit of embarrassment at your predicament though you knew that you shouldn’t be. 

That gave Greef pause as he looks you up and down curiously but he smiles again almost instantly.   
  
“Yes, goodness that wont do at all. What are you doing Man, can’t allow such a lovely thing to walk about wearing your cape and no shoes. What would people think” he admonished with a conspiratorial grin and eyebrow raise in your direction. His rich voice full of mirth. You catch the tail end of a modulated grumble about how people should not know that you all were there at all, and then both were gifted with another long suffering sigh from the Mandalorian.   
You _did_ laugh fully then.   
  
“It’s not his fault I assure you” you defend. Looking at his visor and though not sure what compels you, you give him a cheeky little wink and allow Greef to place his arm between your shoulder-blades to guide you away.   
You chucked again and followed, _charming bugger._  
  
The sand was a little chilly beneath your bare soles as night had already fallen but you don’t worry about it, after a few steps into the courtyard you hiss in pain and pause.   
“You alright there?” Greef asks with both eyebrows raised while you quickly hand Grogu back to him so you could lift up your foot.   
The culprit was a sharp piece of scrap metal about the size of a food capsule firmly imbedded into your arch.   
Before you could respond to Greef that it was nothing serious, instead you are being lifted off your feet in a single effortless motion, arms coming to stabilize against beskar pauldrons.   
  
Greef smiled and chuckled at that and led the way while whispering something lowly at Grogu and then chortling at his own humor. 

You felt rather than hear the Mandalorian sigh and gently shake his helmet in light annoyance. After a few minutes when you remember your manners you whisper a soft “Thank you”, but wasn’t sure if he’d heard you.

A block of the back’s of businesses and homes pass with only the sounds of Greef talking to Grogu somewhat ahead of them before a soft response rumbles through your side reaches you,  
“your welcome”.

* * *

Over the course of the meal ( _in which mostly Din watches Grogu and you eat)_ he sat back and allowed the mostly one-sided conversation to flow over him.   
  
Greef was a cheery host, causing laughter from the _Jetii_ …he chsastesizes himself that you have a name.   
Din was content to observe as you ate while attentively prompting Greef to talk, and the Mandalorian realized you continuously ( _and skillfully)_ kept the focus on the Older Man rather than yourself.   
Greef took the bait, waxing poetic about his History and how he met Din and so on.

What really catches his scrutiny was how regularly you attend to Grogu through the meal.   
Without prompting not only did you see he got his fill of food, but wiped his face when needed and was sure to split your attention with him. 

You were excellent with _ad’_ that much was obvious.  
Something warm slithered uninvited on the outskirts of his awareness, and he conceded in the solace of his own mind that it was related to seeing his Foundling being cared for.   
  
He hadn’t realized he was openly staring ( _or as much as anyone in a Beskar helmet could)_ until during Greef’s soliloquy on Din’s last visit’s adventure you turned to him and offered a gentle smile.   
He didn’t know how, but your aim was dead on in your eye contact.   
Din shifted in his chair trying to hide his embarrassment at being caught…or more accurately his _discomfort?_  
Whatever it was, he crossed his arms over his chest plate clearing his throat in a poor attempt at not being blatantly obvious. 

“Should be on my way” Din prompted and luckily Greef accepted it. Despite his breaking and bending many of the rules they’d put in place, he knew that Din was still basically on the run with Grogu and wasn’t eager to put them in more danger than returning today already had.   
  
“Absolutely, but first” and he scooped up Grogu with the promise of a treat and disappeared with him into the adjacent kitchenette.  
  
“Am I to stay here?”  
Din was rendered speechless for a beat, turning to you to find you now examining the bandaged bottom of your foot. When your head turns and stills, he realizes you're listening to the going’s on of Greef and Grogu in the kitchen.   
When it seems you are satisfied with whatever you’d been seeking he watches your eyes close, stilling your hand over the center of the foot’s sole. The left corner of your bottom lip is pulled in between your teeth in concentration, it hits him that your actually healing yourself when you flex the injured foot a bit and proceeds to slip on the shoes procured by Karga. 

Din remembers after a beat that you’d asked him a question when you meet his eyes again. He couldn’t decipher the look found there, but thinks he wants to.   
  
“Do you _want_ to stay here?” He questions in answer in what he hoped was a casual way.   
  
“Greef said you were searching for a Jedi to complete Grogu’s training”  
A bubble of excitement appeared suddenly as you slip your foot into the shoe, at the thought he might have found one who could do exactly that & perhaps that’s where this conversation was going. 

“Yes, this Quest has been imparted to me. I found one who said she could not complete his training, but has directed me to the planet Tython and some sort of ancient temple.” 

“Wait, you _found_ a Jedi? What was her name, where did you find her?” You sat upright in clear excitement at that.  
  
“Yes, a Togruta. Her name was Ashoka-“  
“-Tano?” The tone was astounded, and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at the fact that you might recognize the name of another _Jetii_. Din wasn’t at all sure how many Jedi there had been or how likely it would be for them to know each other. 

“Did you know her?” 

Silence as your shoulders sagged slightly. 

“No, just _of_ her. She was a well known Padawan of a well known Knight…whose name I’m not recalling.”

Appearing to ponder this for a silent second before going on,

“I never actually met either of them. Did she tell you _why_ she wouldn’t train him?” your expression was pinched in a way that made him think you couldn’t understand why the other Jedi wouldn’t train the child. Din didn’t blame you, that was exactly his own reaction.

“She said…” he finds himself suddenly reluctant to go on.  
If you had the same reservations as the Togruta had he could loose a second chance at finding Grogu a teacher. But Din was nothing if not honest, and he felt a call to keep this budding acquaintance with you untainted by lies.   
“It’s alright if you don’t want to”   
There it was again, that soft smile and consideration. 

All Din had known about the Jedi less than a year ago was that supposedly they were a race of ancient warrior sorcerer’s & the enemies of Mandalorian’s.   
And yet for a second time he found them unwaveringly kind to his _ad’ika,_ and seemingly honorable. 

_Magical paralyzing skills not withstanding, though in your defense he shot you 1st._

Din looks down at the hand now placed over his bracer, then back up as you nod as if to say it was alright if he choose not to go on. 

The sense of _curiosity_ was overwhelming now.   
Why he felt compelled to know more, to share anything at all with you was beyond him. 

“She told me there was much… _fear_ in him.”

“Ahh…yeah” at that you pull your hand away, instead sitting back lost in thought.   
He watches you again, mesmerized by the micro expressions playing across your face. This time it’s your turn to sigh deeply. For a second he fears you will mirror the other Jedi’s reasoning. 

He’s transfixed with how expressive you, _why_ is beyond his ken. 

Maybe it’s because the other Jedi was so regulated in a manner he understood. Partially for the same reason he wears this helmet. 

_The manner of a warrior vs a healer._

“Greef is lovely, but…” bringing the conversation around to his own question, you cant your voice down a few decibels lower than before trying to keep the talk between you only.   
“But…I have a strong feeling that I might have been _meant_ to find you…and Grogu” you add quickly. 

“I don’t know much about Mandalorian’s, but I do know you value the terms in an agreement.”   
  
Din nods then, arms uncrossing to lean one forearm on the table and leaning in to close off the space between you even more.

“I propose a deal” he watches as you place both palms on the table, fingers gently rubbing back and forth across its surface. His eyes are draw to the motion before he looks at your face again.   
“A deal?” It’s a prompting forward rather than a halting question.   
You nod & then again somehow manages to meet his eyes dead center. 

“I admit I am no Knight and especially not a Master, **_but…_** I believe I can further his training. At least, that is, until you can find a Jedi Master who **_can_** see to its completion. And if I’m lucky, maybe mine as well” your gaze never wavers from his until then, gaze falling down to your own hands. 

“And in return?” Din asks, agreement already coiled just behind his tongue.   
“Passage and pay…” your answer is just so, accompanied with a shrug of a shoulder.   
  
Din is abundantly grateful that you cannot see his expression. A little smile actually pulls on one side of his face and a small quick exhale of air escapes the back of his throat. 

“Is **_that_** all” he teases, unsure if he should admonish such naivety or laud the trust you seem to be willing to place in him. 

He is rewarded with a ghost of a smirk pressing your lips together in an attempt to keep your own amusement down. 

“No Mandalorian that’s not all” the barely bridled mirth makes the words bounce in a sing song way. 

You slide as forward as possible while still sitting sideways on your chair, leaning in until one of your knees touch one of his. Until he can almost feel the heat coming off of your fingers only millimeters away from his.

“And” he prompts automatically,.   
“…And you **_never_** put me in Carbonite….”

Din freezes at that. Not because he finds any of it it disagreeable, but because he wasn’t expecting _that_. He chews on it trying to taste any hint of foulness, but only finds the flavor of it suits him just fine. 

“So I trust you to train and care for the kid so I can Hunt, pay you for your time, and no carbonite…” he lifts a finger for each point he ticks off. 

You nod quietly.  
Din unwinds the rest of his fingers, placing his hand palm up in the universal gesture to seal a deal. 

This attracts your gaze, then those eyes are hitting his exactly and he wonders if maybe it’s a Jedi skill.  
  
“I agree to your terms, Jedi” after only a second of hesitation your hand actually slips right into his & shakes in return. Your eyes never leave his as you do, though he can’t be sure you know it. 

Din is alerted to the return of Greef just before he sees him rounding the corner. Before releasing your hand something causes him to squeeze it twice before letting go.

Somehow you get the hint and and turn to the approaching Magistrate, leaving Din with a view of the back of your head. 

The new angle benefits him with the sight of his _Buir’s_ face lighting up the second he sees the _Jetii_ , wondering to himself if he’s just made the best or worst deal of his life. 

* * *

Before the hour is up, the Crest breaks the atmosphere of Nevarro and has slipped into hyperspace like a hypo-needle into the veins of space and time. 

The Mandalorian manages to surprise you once more before taking his leave of you for the night. 

While you wait you sit on the cot again, Grogu across from you. As the Mandalorian prepared for departure you took it upon yourself to entertain the little one, a sneaking suspicion that he was bound for sleep being confirmed only 15 minutes in. Big dark brown eyes disappear behind heavy drooping lids as his head softly jerks in an attempt to stay awake.  
Grogu looses the fight just as you suspected, and is softly snoring on his back. His 3 roly-poly fingers of his right hand wrapped around 2 of your left’s.   
You dare not pull away yet, that ever present risk of a 2nd wind keeping you still and quiet in your observation.   
It doesn’t hurt that the view is unabashedly adorable.   
  
“You uh, might not remember but you asked me to…” he begins approaching from behind your left shoulder.   
As you turn to shush him, your forced to twist at the waist and look over your left shoulder as much as your preoccupied left arm across your torso will allow. Almost as soon as you do the finger over your lips is already dropping in surprise from its _shh_ _a toddler is sleeping so be quiet,_ position. 

Inches from you he holds out his gloved hand, tilting a significantly familiar silver object towards you.

When you reach for it, it is overly slow and cautious even to your mind. You can’t seem to help it though, as your own increasingly fatigued brain is having a difficult time of wrapping itself around what it’s seeing. 

The moment your fingers wrap around the Lightsaber it’s as if part of your world is gifted back to you. 

In all honestly you hadn’t thought of it for a single second since waking up on Nevarro, and only vaguely recalls asking him about it at all.

“…how?” Is all you can formulate, marveling at a physical remnant of the past that seemed more like a diluted memory than real lived experiences.   
Here it was though, it’s familiar weight serving to make everything that had thus far occurred all that more **_real_**.   
You aren’t sure yet if that was a good or bad thing, and even less sure if you were ready to find out which.

“Found it at the cave, thought it might be important” came the soft reply. You both pause in silence. Him towering over you, you sitting with arms crossed awkwardly before looking up to him.

Your reflection peers back. Hair askew, clothing unfamiliar and dingy, mouth slightly agape. 

“Is it your…laser sword?” you didn’t know anything that came from his helmet’s speakers could take on such a hesitant tone. 

“My Lightsaber, yes...” you correct, nodding and letting your newly laden hand fall into your lap as your thumb lovingly traces the patterns inlayed into the sides. 

Usually you pride yourself on being eloquent. Even the Masters had been free with their praise of your natural bedside manner.   
But you didn’t have the words for this feeling hollowing out your insides and filling the space back up simultaneously. The ton-heavy loss of a long gone life bumping sharply against the lightheaded rush of being saddled with something so new. 

When he moves towards Grogu you only watch as he gently picks up the child with practiced ease.   
Your hand goes along with them, still clutched in the warm grip of the dozing youngling. 

Neither move again for a moment both watching the sleeping bundle for a second more, suddenly reluctant to break apart the peace of the moment for whatever comes next.

Nothing last forever though, and when the small one stirs you take the opportunity to slide out from his grip.

The Mandalorian says nothing more, regarding you for less than a second before nodding and turning his back to you. 

“ _Oh_ …Thank you Mandalorian. For, this. For everything…”   
_Smooth._ You inwardly cringe. 

He doesn’t turn back, but pauses indicating he’d heard you.   
Helmet tilted down at the precious cargo cradled in the crook of his armored arm. 

“Get some sleep, you’ll need it” and then he’s carefully climbing the ladder and leaving you alone again. 

After the din of a metal door sliding shut fades, you breathe a little easier. Or perhaps easier isn’t the word, more _freely_. In the way that one doesn’t realize how differently they hold themselves when being watched. 

The Lightsaber is your only companion in the newfound solitude.   
Holding it aloft in both hands you toggle the switch.   
Instead of the swoosh of the blade coming to life you get a pathetic sputtering sound.   
Trying to turn it off and on again grants you with an even shorter and angrier sound of failure. 

A small bit of ozone wafts from one end and you knows with dread that your Lightsaber is well and truly _dead_.   
  
Your mind begins to formulate a plan to take it apart and see what can be salvaged, but gives up halfway in tired frustration.   
No home to go back to, no resources at your disposal and now no weapon. 

For the second time in this very hull the same worried words escape you just before unconsciousness arrives, filling the quiet weighing heavily around you.

  
“ _What now_? _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEVARRO: Volcanic planet in the Outer Rim territories.


	4. THE HUNTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You admit to yourself then that you might have bitten off more than you could chew in the painfully early hours of a morning just under 4 weeks in.  
> Another sleepless night passes in the consistent dimness of the Razor Crest’s hull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din & you are both crap at asking for help in very different but both important ways. Din in particular is a Himbo and doesn’t know how to use his words like a big boy. Grogu is adorable like always. Auntie Peli makes an appearance!

You admit to _yourself_ that you might have bitten off more than you could chew in the painfully early hours of a morning just under 4 weeks in.

Another sleepless night phase passes under the consistent dimness of the Razor Crest’s hull. 

Three weeks, that’s about how long it takes for the relentless charge of disrupted rest to catch up. For nearly a month you kept pace just ahead of the marathon of invasive nightmares.

All things considered, the rhythm of your new existence has gone exceedingly well, until it just _hadn’t_. 

The worst part was that thanks to the well rounded tutelage you had, you absolutely knew the breakdown was nigh. _Mental health was health after-all,_ as your Master had always preached _._

The reality was that rarely had a working knowledge of a thing guaranteed the complete ceasing of its inevitable arrival.   
Even amongst the ranks of the Jedi.

_Especially among the ranks of the Jedi._

Knowing a disaster was imminent was only helpful if you knew _how_ it would manifest itself.  
It’s hardly helpful to prepare for a flash flood if it turns out to be an Avalanche instead. 

Though in the end either way, you could suffocate if held under for too long. 

You are _suffocating._

And you're doing it in plain sight, with a smile on your face.

It’s not the act of suffocation that scares you most, but the concern about how little you were starting to **_care_** that it’s happening _._

That’s the part that grips your mind as you lie awake.

Caring is what you _do_. It’s essentially who you are.

If that’s lost, who will you be?

Then why were you having such a difficult time caring if you were basically falling apart?

Perhaps because the cracks were internal.

Three weeks is all it takes for you both to fall into a steady but dazed rhythm. 

The fact that it was a discordant off kilter beat didn’t help matters, but you try to remain understanding that it will take _time_ to adjust _._

He isn’t used to having help, isn’t used to having anyone else onboard that wasn’t eventually frozen away for delivery. 

His quiet observant ways don’t bother you.

They can be comforting.

The long hours of silence interspersed with days of only interacting with a Middle Aged Frog Child aren’t even what break you.

Though it would be a lie that you don't miss Adult conversations that are more than a handful of words through a modulator.   
It’s the fact that it seemed, no matter how you tried to anticipate the needs of the little one and his Beskar armored guardian, _he_ always seemed to double his efforts to fulfill them himself.

 **Bristly** is the word you would use to describe his reaction to your attempts.

Problem was you _needed_ to be helpful, because when you lay alone in the cold hull of the ship on an unfamiliar cot, the realization that aside from a dead Lightsaber…you have nothing left.

The Jedi were not big on possessions. Not the metaphysical nor the physical kind. But they valued resources, friendships and balance. _At least in theory_.

You’d felt useful then, helpful, wanted, loved…  
As long as you could be helpful, nothing was too much. 

But he just won’t _let_ you.

During a moment laying in the dark you wonder why he even agreed to bring you onboard. It was so easy to be pulled down by what if’s and memories of what and _who_ you lost.

Daily you would sit with the child to work through every age and skill-level appropriate exercise that could be recalled. It was minimal, but it was progress.

Meditation and elevation practice turned into a series of fun and engaging games for Grogu.

You even managed to get various ( _albeit miss-matched_ ) art supplies that would keep any child his level fulfilled. 

During the first days The Mandalorian never moved to stop you, going as far as asking what supplies might be needed to continue the tutelage of the little Force user. That was the last time he’d said more than 3 words to you. That was around 3 weeks ago.

The truth was, it was _Everything Else_ that was the issue.

Even in the Temple, where one would be immersed in the day to day lifestyle of a Jedi, one as young as Grogu would only be expected to dedicate a handful of hours to actual direct training.

By the second week you hit the threshold of maximum appropriate hours a day Grogu could focus in a productive way.

He was essentially a _baby,_ so you trained with games & played in ways that were educational.

When all was said and done the real problem was the remaining 10 hours that were left. You didn’t mind the mundane tasks, but it seemed your Mandalorian employer _did_.  
Though ready and willing to lighten his burden, _he_ seemed to not appreciate the effort.  
  
It was easy to ignore the pattern until it was blatant. 

First to be noticed was meal times. Unless he was physically gone or absolutely had to complete a repair of the ship ( _a worryingly regular occurrence)_ you learned right off the bat that The Mandalorian took his meals with his son, and he took them in private.

It didn’t take a genius to garner that he never removed any of his armor in your presence. This could be chalked it up to a Mandalorian thing. It wasn’t a huge leap to think it was a mannerism related to everything you _didn’t_ know about being a Mandalorian. Which was almost _everything._

The second noticeable instance was after you gave Grogu a bath for the first time. You’d managed a particularly messy craft with homemade edible paints.Mando didn’t say anything outright when he returned ( _bounty in tow_ ), but you could feel his lingering gaze on you after he’d… _stored_ …the being he’d captured.

His presence always sat heavy on your senses when he was nearby, so you offer him a smile over your shoulder, tampering down the discomfort at the idea of what he was about to do, all while keeping your hands just by the bathing child as a safety measure.

Grogu made it a point to greet his Mandalorian enthusiastically, babbling to him while doing his best to get the front of your newly acquired Tunic sopping wet.

Laughing you feign offense which was rewarded by more splashes and bubbly giggles amongst the warm soapy water sloshing about the tiny metal tub used for washing him.  
When you look back again he’s gone, and so you thought no more of it while wrapping Grogu in a dry towel and kissing his squeaky clean wrinkly little head.

You didn’t mind such “mundane” tasks, they were satisfying and served to keep you busy. Busy was good…because being busy didn’t allow for _dwelling.  
_ It’s days later that the recognition something was amiss settled suspiciously near your awareness.

The next time Grogu desperately needed a bath The Mandalorian got to it before you did. Even after returning from a hunt freshly bristling with exhaustion and irritation. As you cleaned up the strewn mess of your latest project, he scooped up Grogu without a word. Soon after, before it seemed he’d managed any self care of his own, Grogu was in the tub being bathed by his guardian.

 _That’s fair,_ you conceded.

Perhaps it was a special task _he_ enjoyed taking care of.   
And that’s how it went.  
Hour by hour & day by day until you reached the threshold of just under a month of being there.

By then if it wasn’t Jedi related or strictly during the time’s he was forced physically away, The Mandalorian had firmly taken a hold of any task even minutely related to his tiny green charge. 

You attempted to meditate on it, to release the feelings of frustration and of _rejection_. _I’m not here to be accepted_ , you reminded yourself.

Your task was to care for the child when The Mandalorian could not and to train him to the best of your abilities until an _actual_ Master could be found.

But it would be patently false to claim the sense of being unwelcome didn’t return with more intensity every time another attempted task was taken away. Finally you offered to go on the Market runs for the few times they were planet side, perhaps a reprieve from each other would help clear your mind. 

That too was shot down with a leveled “No, it’s…I can do it” on his part. 

In his defense, again, the last time you’d gone out as a trio had begun with open stares and ended with mayhem. 

* * *

Initially it’s all very mundane.

He is searching for ship parts and you find Grogu getting restless with boredom. The Mandalorians gaze is already on you when you turn back in from peering through the shop's door. 

“I’m going to take Grogu to look at what they have,” you said, barely waiting for the signature nod of acknowledgment. What greets you is a mix of cooking food smells, bright clothing displays, and the sounds of conversations and music.

Grogu’s arms and legs pumped excitedly at the sensory overload.

“Let’s go see what we can find my little Bantha Nuggie” you kiss the top of his head and chuckle at the excited noises he emits in response. 

After about only 12 minutes of following whatever caught your fancy, it’s a plant stall you settle at, and the vendor was vibrating with excitement at your interest.

You had, as he’d agreed, been allocated a cut of all his bounties. Spending the credits on anything but the absolute basics was rarer than Aurillac. Though the replacement of the scrubs you were found in was essential, when you’d donned the new tunic and properly fitting boots they’d felt like a luxury.

The material you turned into a wrap for wearing Grogu was also practical in nature.

It took a few practice tries to get it right, but through a series of criss-crossing the material over your back and chest, you created a safe pocket for Grogu to more easily be carried. It was far more comfortable, you found, and left your arms free and mobile. 

The biggest splurge so far had been an inexpensive and outdated chronometer. It had caught Mando’s attention the first time you donned it. He caught you off guard by the gentle stilling of your arm so he could examine the wrist.  
You thought you could sense a question below his surface, but he said nothing about it in the end.

He never asked about it and for that you were thankful.The need to be able to know the time at all times served to soothe nerves when anxiety overwhelmed & panic left you shaking and clammy after only an hour of sleep.  
You weren't ready to face that fact just yet.

With growing enthusiasm the Vendor holds up the numerous types of flora one at a time in quick succession. Some of them are familiar, and you think maybe acquiring one could be good for Grogu as much as it would be for you. There are several to pick from including exotic ones even you’d never seen.

With the sun filtered down through sanguine tinted clouds against a lilac tinged sky, a warm breeze shifting the leaves and vines of the plants and yards of textiles for sale making them look as if they were dancing, you took a moment to take it in. 

This market was nothing like the bustling sharp edged glistening ones on more central planets. It’s eclectic nature lends a charming and unexpectedly peaceful sense that makes it feel like a gift.

Grogu kicked his tiny feet contentedly as a particularly interesting plant was held up. It appeared like various shaped pebbles growing out of a layer of black rocks. Each fleshy island was hued in various shades of grey, orange, green and earthy pastels. Though the pod-like leaves looked like stones, they felt soft to the touch.

Grogu reached out his little clawed hand in intense interest, so you let him hold the small pot while passing a few credits to the Yuzzum working the stall. Just as they begin an explanation of how to care for Grogu’s gift, your attention is drawn away.

It happens quicker than the flit of a Toydarian’s wing. 

Apparently unbeknownst to even Mando, a bounty on his list was in the same market. In a stroke of luck ( _good or bad_ ) though the Hunter wasn’t even concentrating on any targets, one of his pucks began to alert, causing the wanted man to panic.

He must have been watching you all along, or at the least must have seen you arrive together because before you knew it there was an unfamiliar arm hooked across your collar and a vibro blade hovering uncomfortably close to your face. 

There was a decidedly snarky comment you had ready but didn’t share it, mostly due to the glaring awareness of Grogu strapped onto your body.

You couldn’t risk his safety, no matter how quickly the aggravation you felt shifted into pissed-off territory.

_How absolutely cliche, of course this would happen._

Somehow when you slowly wrap your hands protectively around the child to guard him, your hands are steady. It serves to shield his head and face, but leaves you to the mercy of the man pressed up against you from behind. 

He aggressively swivels you to be used as a shield against The Mandalorian who had been on his heels the second the beeping began. 

You reach out through that ever present ether, turning your awareness on your assailant.

 ** _A Hapan.  
_** ** _Male presenting.  
_** They were shedding fear in the way only someone with nothing left to lose did. Habit and years of practice had you taking full stock of their body's workings.  
 ** _Regular smoker.  
_** ** _Currently high on something…probably spice.  
_** ** _…a heart murmur._**

You searched for anything that could be used against him, now just to figure out how it could be applied without risking Grogu further.  
  
“Listen, it’s _not_ worth it Mandalorian…” he growled through gritted teeth, hot breath placed way too close to your ear for anyone’s comfort.   
“Could say the same to you” Mando quips with an ice cold air, but you can just about _taste_ the barely tampered broiling fury roiling off of him.

“Leave me be and I’ll let them go” he cuts straight to the pleading.  
“I can bring you in **warm** ….or, I can bring you in _cold_.”

Now you have only witnessed The Mandalorian take in a bounty once, but he used that line then as well making you wonder if perhaps it was a habit of his. 

The vibe of the Market has transitioned from scrambling mayhem to a type of morbid curiosity. Whoever hadn’t run to hide now watched transfixed with bated breath at what would happen next.   
The tension almost snaps when something tips over a jar causing it to smash loudly on the ground.

Mando whips a second blaster in the noise’s direction, but the weapon trained on his Bounty never budges.   
Slowly the arm across the front of your shoulders loosens as if to release you, sliding a tick too slow across your collarbone. Instead of letting go though, his clammy palm settles firmly over your throat.

The new angle is only momentarily better until he adjusts the vibro blade in an actually dangerous position over your jugular.

“Take me in cold or hot?…are you stupid!?…I could say the same about them” he taunts while pulling you against him more firmly.  
The gleaming silver helmet whips back around in the offender’s direction so fast it even caused the plant vendor to jump and gasp in surprise. 

“Want to try that again?” Mando bites back, the intensity of his word’s catches you by surprise.   
“ _Mando…_ ”

The Hapan backpedaled then, literally, hand tightening around your throat much harder than necessary while dragging you backwards a step. It might have been a mistake, a slip up in the effort to keep you from calling to The Mandalorian again.  
Whatever the reason that particular gesture is what splinters away your patience. 

Before there’s another word exchanged, before your Mandalorian employer’s own restraint snaps, you are reaching for the arm holding the vibro against your neck.  
You can feel the sharp icy bite of the blade nicking your skin before _everyone_ can hear the Hapan’s scream of agony.   
Then he’s on his knees bellowing, tossing angry, bewildered and desperate questions at you about the state of his painfully incapacitate arm.  
He must be higher than even you anticipated because despite his vulnerable position he’s threatening you with more violence, but it dies on his lips as a blaster bolt hits him right between the eyes. 

Your arms drop away from the child and you turn your gaze to the Mandalorian at the same time. He slowly looks up and meets your stare and there’s a tense silence for a second. The fact that you want to point out you're just as capable of looking out for yourself teeters on the tip of your tongue. 

“ _Patu_ ” Grogu breaks the standoff, holding up the small potted plant proudly before him. It’s a fantastically ridiculous visual and causes laughter to bubble up out of you, dissipating the edge of the tension still vibrating through you.

“Guess I won’t be taking on Bounty Hunting anytime soon” you joke indicating the body, and _he_ sighs.  
  


* * *

  
Conversations with The Mandalorian became almost non-existent after that.

It bothers you, more than you are willing to lay claim too.

So much so that when you lay awake again during one of those multitudinous silent slips through hyperspace, you have to repeat new mantras in your mind: 

- _He doesn’t need the distractions.  
_ _-You are not here for fun_.   
- _It’s not personal, just business_.  
- _He’s not your friend, and that’s ok...  
_...It _has_ to be. 

You're dangerously near a breaking point, but somehow without trying you manage to push the Mandalorian to _his_.  
There was never a discussion about the _Market_ ** _Incident_**. 

He doesn’t address it and so you never bring it up, but you feel conflicted by the tendrils of anger simmering just under the Beskar.  
Was he angry with _you_?  
Was it you who had put Grogu into danger in _his_ eyes? All unasked and unanswered questions, so you mostly kept to yourself after it.  
 _At least for a few days.  
_ And then you are falling back into old habits.

Making sure that when a meal is prepared for yourself and Grogu there is enough for The Mandalorian to partake. It was something instinctual.

You hand’t placed any special meaning behind it, just that he needed to eat and you could make that happen.  
All the same he was visibly taken aback by this when you’d presented him with a bowl of rations hacked into a stew of sorts. Leaving him so he could eat in private, feeling a little bad it took that long to think of it. 

Then on a full day’s layover refueling and restocking on a blessedly warm & sunny day at some minuscule station, you’d washed the “blanket” that was _actually_ his cape.  
You knew all along what it _truly_ was from the visit with Greef, but it remained with you.

He never interrogated you on it or requested it back.  
At the outset it was easy enough to ignore the implications, but after the Market you knew better.

When it is dry you carefully fold and place it on his Pilot's seat. It should easily be found that way. Instead you manage to acquire a simple blanket of your own. _You will Not openly admit to missing the cape, you won't._

Mando is wearing the freshly laundered cape the next time you see him.  
It takes you a second to focus on him, realizing your mind had wandered.   
When he pauses just in front of you during a lesson, you think perhaps he might actually speak to you.

Gazing up at your own reflection was always a bit jarring, especially with the taut silence between you. His fingers flexed in a way you’d noticed he did often. Just as the courage to ask _what was wrong_ appears…he huffs a sigh and stalks away. 

You couldn’t lie, _that one hurt_.

You _thought_ you were good at reading body language, great even.  
It was a skill you always prided yourself on.  
Thing was when dealing with your inner demons that whispered untruths about your shortcomings, it was effortless to second guess yourself.

- _He isn’t mad at you, he’s just not used to such regular interactions.  
_ _-It’s nothing you’ve done wrong, nor is it his fault that he’s incredibly self sufficient_.  
- _He doesn’t hate you, but he isn’t your friend…nor does he need to be._

You repeat such things to yourself, but in truth you are starting to feel _crazy._

He’d shown you such warmth from the get go ( _aside of course from the unfortunate shooting thing).  
_ That 1st week aboard you would be willing to claim something next to friendship had begun to bloom. 

He’d been there, a solid silent comforting presence whom you allowed yourself to find a touchstone in…but before it could take further root it was gone.  
And for your love of the Force, you couldn’t suss out what you’d done wrong, or how to repair whatever was broken.

The nightmares were exhausting, the lack of sleep was exhausting, the _crushing boredom_ and loneliness were exhausting, the mixed & muted signals from the Man who was your literal lifeline but you weren’t even sure if he just was antisocial or if he simply couldnotstandthesightofyou….was _exhausting.  
_ _You were exhausted._

That’s how you meet Peli Motto. 

Tatooine was a planet only familiar to you through reputation, so it’s a bit of a shock to the senses leaving the eternally chilly confines of Space for the bright overwhelming heat of the Desert Planet.

While Mando had been forthcoming with that kind of information _if_ you asked, when the distance started to grow wider you stopped asking. If he wanted to tell you he would, you were desperately trying to not reach for what obviously wasn’t there _._ It didn’t matter either way, because you went where they went. Besides who would you discuss it with, the baby?

You think maybe you really don't hate Tatooine at first sight, it’s just…an adjustment. 

It’s the same with Peli, you soon find. 

The woman is like a tiny sand devil of curls and cusses.

The few times you had been able to watch others interact and react to The Mandalorian it was clearly always a minimum of 90% intimidation on the other’s even when the interaction was neutral or amiable.

Peli exuded exactly 0% sense of intimidation in The Mandalorians presence. She didn’t even _notice_ you for at least ten minutes after they exited the ship.

Striding right up to the wall of Beskar, the first words you hear are the somewhat shrill threat of bodily harm against him and a demand to see “her Bright Eyes” before the woman gets her sights on Grogu and then her whole tone changes.

Then it’s what you can only describe as pure ecstasy.

This is also the first time you _hear_ the Mandalorian **_chuckle_** openly. It startles you in its unexpected richness, the warmth it settles in your belly is overpowering...but the aftertaste is bitter.

Within the short span of their arrival it’s become clear that there is a friendship between these two. The Mandalorians whole stance is more relaxed already in the 5 minutes there than it has been in the past 15 days with her. 

So instead you stay clear while perched on the ramp. At least from that spot you are shaded from the glaring light by the shadow of the Razor Crest.

Another five or so minutes pass as Peli coos at Grogu, reminding you of Greef and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“Is he feeding you enough Bright Eyes, I swear you’ve grown, yes you have… What did you do to the ship, must have done something to her for you to show up in my Bay. Perfect timing honestly because work has been a bit slow and…” she jumps from one subject to the next until she paces just out of The Mandalorians shadow and catches sight of you.

For the first time since the ramp lowered, the diminutive woman stills. 

“Who the heck are you?” The words on anyone else might have been patently rude, yet everything sparking off of Peli screams of good natured honesty.

“Just another pathetic life-form.” you weren't trying to be funny outright, but it was the first thing that came to mind. 

After a beat where the Mechanic squints up at you incredulously, then you are gifted with the loudest cackle you ever heard out of such a petite person.

“Now **_them_** I like” Peli shoots at The Mandalorian with a toothy grin.

“You like spotchka kid?” And suddenly she’s got you by the forearm and Grogu in her other arm. “Wait, you're an Adult right?” you actually laugh at that and assure the Mechanic that you very much are.  
  
By the time you enter her abode you decide you like Peli.  
The Force, it seems, has granted you a bit of a break for a change. 

* * *

Din was slipping.

What he was slipping **_into_** was a question he wasn’t willing to even entertain.  
Something that carried the distinct air of _vulnerability.  
_ In his lived experience vulnerability meant _weakness._

Din hated feeling weak, he _couldn’t_ feel weak. Weak meant death, and destruction and if for nothing else besides the safety of his Foundling he had to _survive._ The moment he realized he was falling into such a trap was approximately a week into the arrangement with the Jedi. 

Din wasn’t sure how you’d gotten so far under his guard in 5 days but if he learned it was some sort of _Jetii_ magic he wouldn’t be surprised.   
_Then again that wasn’t exactly fair either.  
_ He could grant there wasn’t a single thing you’d done that he could fault you for his own poor decision making.   
_Bringing You Onboard had been a mistake._

The guilt of even **_thinking_** it left him with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. If he was honest at all with himself, he could take responsibility for the truth of his predicament.   
Your presence wasn’t the mistake, his growing desire for it _was_.

Just a week in he woke up feeling completely rested for the first time in half a lifetime. He’d slept more than his normal under 2 hour spurts…6 to be exact.  
What nearly equated to a whole proper night's sleep.

His heart has raced at the realization. After quickly donning the Armor and helmet, Din tried his best to keep moving at a normal pace and not a run in obvious panic.The last time he’d overslept that wasn’t related to an injury was beyond his recollection.

 _Di’kut_!

Several things sped through his mind as he aimed towards the cockpit to check on the route and the systems. Finding everything as it should be eased up on the tension in his shoulders slightly.

It all shot back up when he nearly jumped out of his seat, armor, clothes, **_and_** skin by the sudden opening of the cockpit door.   
Din felt like an outdated computing system taking too long to load.

It was the Jedi, because who else would it be?  
He reminded himself... _you had a name_.  
“I hope you slept well” you begin in that effervescent way he’d started affiliating with you. 

Din continued to stare, he probably would look like an idiot if you could see his mouth agape and eyes wide.  
Thank the Beskar you couldn’t. 

“I uh…” and you were handing him a hot bowl of something that smelled good even though he could only catch a whiff from under the bottom of his helmet. “Grogu’s just gone down for a nap so you should have some peace” you added while handing out a spoon to go with the meal sitting perched in his hand.

“uh…thanks”  
 _Di’kut, why was he an idiot?_

“Your welcome, I’ll let you…” and you smiled again softly at him, causing his heart to pick up a tick faster than before. And then you were gone, the door shut behind with a hiss.  
Din realized belatedly that this was the 1st time in forever someone provided a meal to him without being prompted. Despite the palpable lingering curiosity when your gaze settled on him for longer than needed, you hadn’t questioned his need for privacy either.

Somehow you’d picked up on it without explanation. 

The food nearly went cold with how long he sat and pondered this. Finally with the cockpit locked he actually ate the meal you’d given him.

Belatedly as he parsed out spoonfuls of what was in his bowl it hits Din that it’s actually rations. They were barely recognizable.  
You’d added to & seasoned it in a way that was surprisingly satisfying. It was good, _very good_.

For the first time in a good long while Din sat free from his Helmet, well rested and stomach full in the privacy of his cockpit while his foundling was nearby and cared for…

A sense not unlike dread began to germinate. This whiplash quick change in under a week made him feel off kilter in a manner that scared him.

If he wasn’t careful Din feared he would grow to be too reliant on your kindness. It didn’t matter how comfortable he felt in your presence, or how kind you seemed. It didn’t matter how attached his Foundling already was to you, or the thick warmth that spread over him when watching you together…

It didn’t matter how singular he found you, and how easily his eyes were drawn to the interesting expressions always flitting across your features.

Din Djarin couldn’t allow himself any more weaknesses.  
He didn’t have room in his existence for anything else soft, didn’t have the space to allow such kindness.  
Even if he _wanted_ to.

One day possibly sooner than later he _would_ find the rightful home of Grogu, even if it took another lifetime…  
Until then he would have to continue to Hunt, to hurt and _kill_ to make his living.

And then Grogu would leave him…

…the _Jedi_ would leave…

When that day came Din had to be ready.  
He had to be as unmoving & impenetrable inside as his armor was outside.

Because he needed to be strong enough to let go.

To hold fast to the reminder that those who got close to him got hurt. Those who got close to him _died_.

Because if he was to complete this Quest, he had to be strong enough to not hold on, to stay closed off.

_This was the way._

* * *

Din manages to stay true to his word.

He guards himself against slipping any further down the slope of the mountainous kindness you continued to display.   
He kept interactions to a minimum, worked to not rely on you more than absolutely necessary. He had to Hunt though, that much was a given.

Several days later after returning from tracking a bounty, his steps paused so suddenly the H’nemthe bounty nearly collided with his back.  
Despite caring for his foundling all day, training him and entertaining him he finds you bathing the child too.

Grogu notices him then and blows raspberries in acknowledgement but turns back almost instantly, the distraction of bubbles and warm water and **_you_** are enough to keep his attention. 

Din’s body stiffened when you looked over your shoulder at him, the warm smile you offered without fail directed his way. He watches your eyes flicker to the being behind him and then flick towards where Carbonite locker was and Din think’s you probably didn’t even realize you’d done so. Your expression shifts slightly to something that darkens the brightness in those magnetic eyes of yours that he doesn’t care for.

When you turn away he takes the opportunity to place the bounty, pretending to not hear your tinkling laughter at the child or how it reaches him in any other way besides audibly. 

Your back remains turned to him when he’s done, distracted with the care of the boisterous little one.

But from the safety of his perch above the hull he is _just_ out of sight, Din can ponder how you look back for him and seek him out with your eyes.

After a beat your attention goes back to wrapping Grogu in a towel & getting him dry.

Din observes from his vantage as you place a tender kiss on the top of the little wrinkled head, and only thanks to the Helmet can he make out the soft spoken consideration you gift’s his son.

The physical distance makes it feel safer. 

Makes him feel less culpable in the sin of this weakness.

Pleasure at just how…domestic, and soft it all is. He cannot quite be sure if he hates more how it makes him feel, or the fact that he is helpless to feeling anything at all.

It’s strange the things that can nearly break even well placed barriers, the small moments that might crumble your resolve.

A routine refueling stop nearly sets him back 2 weeks.

He’s trying to find those damn parts to fix what’s been plaguing his ship for over a month.

It’s been impossible to find, even in a well trafficked ( _or as well trafficked as he dares_ ) location that gets a variety of parts for ships of all types.

The problem being of course, **_his_** ship.

She was _old_ , and he knew that. It had been part of what he loved about it.

Vintage was the word he preferred to use. A fixer-upper yes but _his_ fixer-upper all the same. The problem with that was, especially when trying to keep a low profile, parts could be hard to come by.

He’d put it off long enough, but the further they got and the more he sought the clearer it became.

The one person he just _knew_ could help him was Peli Motto.

And Tatooine wasn’t exactly on his list of locations he was trying to visit right now.

Not because he was avoiding the Mechanic, she was a friend.

It was because he _knew_ he wouldn’t find either a Covert or a Jedi there. But he also couldn’t risk a systems failure that would put them all in danger, so he makes a quiet decision that their next destination would be Peli’s hanger. 

Din didn’t catch sight of you when he made it back on to the ship.

He’d been good about avoiding you all together, as much as was possible on a small craft.

He’d only slipped _once_ since deciding to make distance.

After visiting the Fresher late at night, he’d heard your shuffling restlessly in the cot that had become your’s. 

Din stopped and allowed himself to watch over you, from a distance, until it seemed you settled down.

He didn’t know why he was compelled to, but he thanked the darkness and the late hour for not being caught.

Locking the memory of the night before away as he’d closed up the ship, and started for the Cockpit where you finally crossed paths.

The Crest wasn't big by any standards, so it was inevitable. 

You’d reached the bottom rung of the ladder just as he was a few steps away. Obviously you’d come down from there, though he didn’t know why, it made him uneasy.

You didn’t say anything, just offered a tight lipped ghost of a smile and passed him by.

When Din reached the cockpit he figured out what you’d been doing in there.

 _His cloak_.

The familiarly tattered material was freshly washed & sat folded in his Captain’s chair.

He’d been without it since he met you, but hadn't had it in him to ask for it back.  
Instead he’d worn a backup that’d been quickly destroyed in a fight, and then he wore none at all. But here it was, very obviously laundered in a way he knew you must have done by hand due to the water tanks needing refilling.

He rubbed the material through his leather bound fingers, and had the sudden overwhelming urge to _smell_ it. 

That gave him pause.

It wasn’t a secret that you were attractive to him.

He’d seen it back in Greef’s place.

Din wasn’t a prude, even so he found it hard to admit how long it’d been since he’d found anyone more than fleetingly attractive…

_Omera._

That was the last time he’d thought _what if._

With Xi’an…with anyone else he’d never cared to entertain more than fulfilling a need. 

There were similarities there: Both of you were physically attractive, maternal and kind. 

He’d given himself permission to ponder the possible in regards to the young widow from Sorgan, even months after they’d parted ways.

But Omera was worlds away, locked onto a path he would never walk.

He was _ok_ with that honestly, despite the fleeting stay to wonder how things could have been different.

Din had decided that he _might_ have been happy with Omera, but that he was also alright with how everything turned out. 

Then there was you.

And you were… _there_ , so present and tangible and so unlike anyone he’d ever met despite the sense of familiarity you’d so easily slipped into. 

That’s what made such thinking so _dangerous_.

Din expertly donned the returned cape.

He didn’t need a mirror to put it back into place. It was such a practiced motion, he could do it in his sleep. When it was secure he couldn’t help but feel a piece of him had been returned, but not in the same shape it was when he’d given it away.

That was the truly alarming part.

The idea that in giving a piece of yourself away, it could fit _better_ upon its return.

It was the same cape, the same size and length. Nothing was new about it, except he could ( _if he allowed himself to_ ) imagine it was your scent that clung to it. Like you, despite his best efforts, had started to imprint yourself on every aspect of his life.

And for not the first time in a year, Din almost allowed himself to wander down a path of what if.

 ** _Almost_**.

The small allowance nearly causes him to give in then and there.

On autopilot he finds himself standing over you. Din is taken aback by the aimless 10 yard stare on your face. Grogu was across from you, floating the shifter knob between.

The child was entertained and engaged, but it seemed your mind was a million parsecs away. For the first time in weeks he allows himself to take a truly good look at your face close up. 

You look… _lost_.

His intention was to thank you, and maybe allow himself to open the dialogue back up between you.

He thinks maybe he’d over-reacted, maybe it wasn’t so bad to allow room for friendship.

In the near 4 weeks you’d been onboard you had been nothing but helpful and kind, in ways he hadn’t anticipated. 

But instead he freezes…because you look so _vulnerable._

You look so soft, and lost in your own thoughts.  
His fingers twitch under the need to reach out, and do…what?  
He didn’t know. Something dangerously unguarded. 

Din sighs, because he is a coward.

Because he is afraid.  
Because he doesn’t have the words.

Din walks away without saying anything, because if he doesn’t go he might slip.

And if he slips…there will be no one to catch him. 

Because if he slips…he might _fall_. 

* * *

For the first time in your **New** life, you get _drunk_. 

Peli sets her droids to work and then she’s coercing her new friend into a game of Sabacc plied with plenty of spotchka. In Her Defense she offers The Mandalorian some as well, but true to form he refuses and simply sits and studies them as is his nature. 

Peli knows a lightweight when she sees one, and true to **_her_** nature she takes an opportunity and rolls with it. One look at you and it’s evident you need a drink.   
Before she knows it the whole story is flowing freer than Jabba-juice on tap.  
It’s more of a _Saga_ really.

Complete with honest to Maker Knights ( _the Jedi kind)_ and a time warp.

“Whew…thass an Epic!”

Peli’s own words are a bit slurred, but she’s only tipsy. There’s at least another solid 2 hours in her before she reaches her limit. You on the other hand appear for the lack of a better term to be, _schmammered._

Peli knew you needed a drink, but after beginning to grasp the weight of your tale instead decided what you _really_ needed was to get drunk.  
So that’s what you do. 

All the while Mando hovers just on the outskirts of their little party like a Bonegnawer, observing in tense silence.

“I met a Jedi once, handsome bugger…fancy accent” Peli added to herself mostly while presenting her hand.  
You groan and laugh, and lose the game… _again_.

Honestly you're a sweetheart but can’t play the game worth _shit_.  
The story alone is worth it though.  
Between playing hands, drinking shots of the blue liquor and checking on the progress of the ship they entertain Grogu until his eyelids get heavy with sleep. 

“Handsome Jedi with a fancy accent, that narrows it down”, you catch up after a moment. Peli cackles at that and has to give it to you because for someone who’s basically lost everything you sure manage to maintain a chipper facade. 

“I’m going to put him down,” The Mandalorian says his first full sentence in an hour.   
“nuhWait, I fold…” you counter before he can leave. Your words slurred comically before you fall quiet for a second, exhaling dramatically through pursed lips and running your hands over your face and taking a series of deep slow breaths.

For a minute Peli isn’t sure if you're going to pass out, throw up, cry or fall asleep.  
When your hands fall away and you blink a few times and make steady eye contact with Peli, and there’s something different there.   
You offer Peli a genuine smile and when you stand there isn’t even a wobble present.

For the first time in Peli’s life, words fail her.

Either you have been faking your drunkenness, or you had the fastest turnover of any Humanoid Peli had ever met. 

“Thank you Peli, I’m so glad we met” and the Mechanic is nodding and smiling in return, still taken aback by the quick change in mannerism. 

“I'll take him” you offer but don't wait for The Mandalorians response before you're relieving him of the little one and head toward the ship. 

When the crunching of boots on sand fades away and the Mandalorian is still standing there watching your retreat, Peli turned her sights on _him_.  
She’’s able to watch for a few more moments as she thinks of what to say next. 

“So…how much of that was true?”  
He huffs in response, taking the seat now abandoned across from her.

“Far as I know…all of it” his helmet still not turning away from the exit. “Hmmm….” Is all she offers, returning to the spotchka left in her glass.   
“Poor thing, that’s…” she really doesn’t have a word for what that is.   
“…Yeah” he breathes as he sits back in the chair with a tired groan.

“Good with the little one” Peli notes nonchalantly as she gathers the spread out cards.  
“Very” he concedes simply, rubbing a glove across his right shoulder as if to loosen it. 

“Seems nice…attractive.” Peli adds as she begins to shuffle them.   
The Mandalorian’s helmet slowly rolls at her stopping with his glass visor dead on but adds nothing.  
Peli finally meets his gaze, or what she assumes is. 

“What?! Look I’m just _saying_ …S’not everyday you find a pretty thing like that who’s good with the kid, is a fancy Jedi…”  
“Healer” he adds, but you she can just **_hear_** the amusement dripping through his vocoder. It makes her chuckle and his head shakes a bit and she just knows he’s laughing too. 

“Soooo…it’s not every day you find an attractive _…available…_ good with your kid _…available…_ once upon a time Jedi who _……._ also just so happens to readily agree to deal with your _shit.”_

Peli takes a long drawn out swig of her drink while suddenly taking an intense interest in the deck in her hand.

“You said available _twice”  
_ _“_ Oh Did I? Hadn’t noticed.. _”  
_ _“Hmm…”_ he doesn’t seem convinced and she knows that’s his way of ending the conversation. Rising from the chair to his full height with a sigh in the way she’s allied with him, Peli takes that as her que to reach across the small table and fill the empty shot glass with a generous snort of spotchka.

When she sits back Mando is regarding her silently, though after a tick he moves to grab the glass and his helmet tilts a bit in her direction as a way of taking his leave. 

Peli purposefully turns her back to him, and uses that as an opportunity to cork the bottle and place it back on the bar behind her. Only turning back around when she hears the clink of the empty glass being put down, book ended by the hiss of his helmet being lifted just enough to take the shot and then be replaced. 

“Night Mando”  
“ _Night Peli_ ” 

She’s left with a lot to think about.

After going over ( _picking_ at) her Droid teams progress and asking them ( _berating lovingly)_ for them to keep the noise down ( _to shut up lest_ they wake her favorite womp rat) she’s just tired enough for sleep. 

Peli doesn’t have fancy Jedi seeing powers, or whatever…what she does have is a lifetime of observing people.

And she knows two worthy idiots sharing a single brain cell when she sees it, or her name isn’t Peli Motto. 

* * *

True to your word by the time he arrives, Grogu is tucked in and fast asleep.

The pod floats conspicuously near your cot as you watch over the peaceful slumber of the toddler.  
Din stands frozen across from you, mind racing with all the words he knows he _should_ say but are currently failing him.

He’s thankful for the silence to think, and that he decided to accept the shot of Spotchka because between Peli’s door and here he’s decided he has to say _something._

“I can stay here on Tatooine if you want me to.”  
“Wait. _what_. **why** …” tripping over his own tongue has nothing to do with the alcohol.  
“It’s just…whatever I’ve done to make you regret having me here, I want you to know I… _am_ sorry.”  
  
The words are so unexpectedly apt that Din nearly chokes on his own spit. When he finds his voice after a heavily loaded moment he asks with all the eloquence of a drunk.

“….do you, think that I…”. _  
_ “I just wanted to be useful…I never meant to overstep, if that’s why…I can do better.”

When your voice trembles it pulls on his heart strings in a way Din’s not sure how to feel about.  
He lets go of a sigh that feels more like the release of too much pressure.

“You had a lot to drink” he begins by way of an out.  
Though he’s not sure who the out is _really_ for.  
“I’m not drunk…not anymore” you meet his gaze and he knows you're telling the truth. 

“...How...”  
“The Force Mando, just like what I did to you…just like what I did to that Hapan…Body functions, it’s…complicated.” you sound utterly frustrated then, he knows he’s stalling and he _does_ feel bad for it. 

“Tell me I overstepped, tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it”  
 _Maker you're going to be the end of him_. The thought comes to him unbidden. 

“You didn’t do _anything_ wrong” it’s the truth, but he knows it’s not the answer.“Then why? I just want to be useful but…you keep…” the emotion behind your words weighs them down with unshed sadness, and Din feel’s its burden like a tangible thing. 

“You _are_ useful, I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to make you think that….”  
He shakes his head and takes an unwitting step towards you, hands opening and closing at his sides reflexively.  
“You _are_ useful” he reiterates more firmly this time, but it doesn’t seem enough. Even to a man of such few words.

“You just got here and already you care for the kid like he’s your own. You care for me like….you are more than useful. I’m…I’m sorry. I want you to stay.” The words tumble from him, tripping over themselves like children cartwheeling down a hill. The nodding off your head is so subtle he almost misses it, and though relief loosens the vice on his chest his mouth still feels dry. 

“After that first week…I thought maybe….”   
“I’m just…not used to accepting help” he plows into your words, trying to keep the momentum of something so difficult to admit.

“I promise to… _try_ to be more communicative from here on out”  
He adds, hoping it’s enough.  
“ _Do, or do not…there is no try_ ” you jokingly retort cutting through the tension, causing him to pause to suss out if he should be more annoyed or less amused.   
Din takes several steps until he's hovering over you, hands propping up on his hips.

“With one condition…” the orange tips of his index raising to point at you, his attempt to sound more serious than his blossoming relief is allowing him to feel.  
In another moment where indecision becomes resolution he curls his finger towards his palm instead and gently presses his knuckle under your chin, canting your face gently & waiting until you finally make eye contact again.

Your expression is steady despite the trail of shed tears that betray you, painting streams on your cheeks like meltwater escaping a glacier.   
“I’m the Hunter….you let me handle that and I swear to trust you with the rest…Deal?”

You gazes past your own doppelgänger reflected in the Beskar and glass to meet unnervingly close to where his eyes actually were.  
Your hand rises to touch down over top his raised wrist over the layers of fabric and leather. Before he drops his own away from your chin he allows it to hover over where the Vibro had cut your neck.

There isn’t so much as a mark to hint at what happened, but when he closes his eyes he can still see the tendrils of blood left over from just after the encounter.  
His thumb grazes the spot he finds is far too close to the major artery for his liking, so much so he can feel your pulse through the leather of his gloves.   
After another loaded moment with him mulling through your silence, he rotates his wrist to take your fingers in his and gives 2 quick squeezes before finally pulling away. 

* * *

The echo of boots off the metal floor brush near to the exact spot you’d been unconscious only a short many weeks ago. You watch as he climbs the ladder to the cockpit and stays locked in thought while he shuts himself away only a few feet up.   
  
The sensation of his gloved fingers stays with you, even after the heaviness of the day eases into the equivalent of night. It sits in your chest like a hand squeezing around heart. A weighted blanket over your lungs that makes them feel constricted, but not in an unwelcome way. 

Not unlike the hold of sleep that eventually pulls you down.  
Like the grasp of a dream that won’t let you easily go come morning.

And for the first time in 3 weeks and 4 days, you fall asleep and stay there without a nightmare in sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurelac: An organism that grows similarly to botanical rhizomes, found on the Green moon of Planet Bakhroma
> 
> Lithops: Succulent with leaves that resemble stones. Also known as the Living Stone
> 
> Toydarian: Sentient winged species of the planet Toydaria. Small with a long snout and webbed feet.
> 
> Hapan: Humanoid species of the Planet Hapes. Known to have complete night blindness due to the perpetual brightness of their home-world are nearly blind even in dim light.
> 
> Spice: Group of Illicit substances mined on Kessel. Originally for medicinal purposes, often used recreationally.
> 
> Yuzzum: Sentient species native to the forest moon of Endor.
> 
> Spotchka: Luminescent blue alcohol brewed from an organism known as Krill on the planet Sorgan.
> 
> Di’kut: Mando'a for "someone who forgets to put their pants on". Often translated as the equivalent of "moron"
> 
> H’nemthe: Bipedal reptilian humanoid species of the planet of the same name, known to have sword-sharp tongues.


End file.
